Wilson's Tale
by dragon jak 99
Summary: Wilson A Percival is trapped within a strange new reality by a device he created and must find a way home. Along the way, he will encounter unearthly forces and strange friends, but will he make it home? This is my own take on the world and story of the Don't Starve universe, so I have made a few tweaks and changes to the canon.
1. Day 1

This is the last record of the thoughts of Wilson H Percival, son of John and Mary Percival and brother of Keith and Jennifer Percival. I am no longer in a place I can call home, and I fear for my life.

I am a scientist. A polymath if you will, working in the fields of chemistry, biology, geology and physics. My work has taken me to the theoretical edges of our universe, and many weeks ago, I broke through those boundaries. Through my equations, I had was able to prove a way to create wormholes without them collapsing. Many sleepless hours later, I showed these ideas to my most trusted friend, and he warned me against sharing this with the rest of the world, at least until I could create the wormholes I had described. After some thought, I concluded that this would be wise, for who knew how many might use this discovery for nefarious purposes. I set to work immediately, consulting every engineering textbook I had to hand. It took all my time, money and concentration over those months. I nearly lost my beloved fiancé, but I was so close to a breakthrough. In the end, I created it; The great monolith of wood and metal I nicknamed "the gate". I sent for my friend immediately, wanting his opinion on my creation, and he arrived the very next day for the first testing. After some preamble, I raced upstairs and set to work. I flipped the levers, turned on the generator and flung open the doors of the gate, ready to step into my new life of fame and wealth.

But my first step was into darkness.

It filled out the room and pulled me inwards, into my own creation. I had no time to scream, to warn my friend or my fiancé. The blend of panic and unconsciousness may well be one of the most...interesting experiences I have ever lived through. I woke up later in the woods, my eyesight unfocused and my legs wobbly, but these were not the woods of my home. The evergreens where unsurprising, not uncommon even at home. I did not know what had happened to me, or where my house was. At first, I wondered if this was a trick my friend was playing upon me, maybe putting me out in the forest while I had been unconscious. I was about to call out for my friend when a butterfly, easily the size of a dinner plate, fluttered past, spinning about in the warm morning breeze.

I dared not move in its presence, keenly aware that something was amiss. I observed it for many minutes, my brain trying to make sense of this creature. Its wings swam through the air, unlike a bird in that instead of its wings tilting, it's whole body would dip forwards and back, swooping up and down like someone tracing out a mountain range. No insect of such size should be able to breathe, let alone fly. It's flight patterns should have been too erratic for it to know where it was going, and yet it never hit any of the trees, nor the ground. It defied what I knew about biology with its mere existence. How exciting!

The excitement of this discovery dwindled as I tried to find something, anything like my home. I searched until my feet were blistered, but I could not find any sign of civilisation. Eventually, I hit a river too wide to cross and decided to return back to where I woke up, hoping to find some clue as to what happened. I found nothing but my journal, my pens, and the shattered mahogany of my work table. That table had been a gift from my grandfather. It was the place he had written his novels, and had been custom made just for him. I write this on the journal, with my favorite pen as my grandfather might once have.

I am not dead.

This is enormously surprising. I had laid my head down after the last entry and I must have fallen asleep, but I now find myself under the cover of night, sitting near to a roaring fire. I was not scared of course, but I was on guard, peering out into the darkness trying to find the mysterious being who built the fire. I have still found no-one. The darkness is so impenetrable that not even the stars and moon shine through as if the air is absorbing their light. The imposter could have been five feet away and I'd never know until morning.

However, I'm discovering a new set of problems. My stomach is getting impatient, after having missed breakfast, lunch and now dinner, but I have nothing to sate it. I can also feel this strange itch behind my ears that I just can't scratch. I'm sure it will work itself out in time, but come daylight I will need to find something edible.

For now, I must wait for this stranger.

Day two

Damn it Wilson!

I fell asleep again, and woke up to the mid morning sun beating down on my face. The mysterious fire starter has not shown himself, but the daylight has revealed his previous attempts. Piles of ash and mangled twigs litter the area, giving the place a 'middle of a hurricane' look, if that hurricane had also been on fire. I have heard that can happen in some countries, and I hope I am not in one of those places.

It has occurred to me that if I have discovered the key to wormholes, then it would be possible for others to do the same. It is quite possible this firestarter is another lost scientist, thrown into this world against his will. If that is the case, how long has he been here? It is clear he is not skilled when it comes to constructing campfires, as my ashy surroundings suggest, but he may have no need for fires, and set one up simply for my benefit. But that makes no sense, why go to all the effort of keeping me safe when he doesn't even know me? Does he intend to keep to assess me from afar? To see if I am worthy of his trust? Or maybe it was a passing act of kindness, and he has no interest in me?

As is obvious, search for the firestarter has been fruitless. So I have replaced it with the far more fruit-based and consequentially more fruitful search for food. During this mornings wanderings, I discovered a bush adorned with red berrys, which I have stuffed into my pockets. As much as my stomach crows, I will not eat them just yet. Any good survivalist cooks his food to free it of toxins before consumption, and I have little interest in death by sickness.

It has dawned on me that without the help of the individual, I could be out of luck when the night returns. So, in preparation, I have equipped myself with some sharp rocks I have discovered. I have used these to collect several sticks from nearby trees, as well as a branch or two. My hands sting and the rocks are now bloody, but I have what I need. I have also collected a few others rocks that have shown promising sparks when bumped together, and I am prepared for the night ahead. In other news, my stomach has reached new levels of agony and my body is losing what little energy it had as I write this, but I cannot sate it. I will not waste my precious firewood until the night is here.

As I write this, I am sitting on the branch of a mighty evergreen, overlooking the horizon. I have decided to use this great tree as my base, as it provides protection from the elements and an excellent view. In the east, I can see a desert, a cracked tundra as far the eyes can see. In the north and west lies mountains, and in the south is yet more forest. The sun is saying its final goodbyes now as it crests over the snow capped slopes.

It is now the night of day two, and I am alive! Who knew all those camping trips with my dad would pay off like this? The berries where quite nice, if unfulfilling, and I have not yet shat myself to death. I need to get home. Who knows what this new world might hold, and how long my mediocre survival skills will keep me alive in the face of new challenges? I have only seen those strange butterfly's, but only because I have not strayed too far. what of winter? And of rain? I have only the rags I came here with, how will I even sleep? What if I get sick, or break something?

Oh Charlie, my Charlie, do you even know what has befallen me? Do you think me dead? And maxwell, what of you my friend? Are you consoling her in her time of grief? Did they fall victims to the gate as well, stuck in this strange plane as I am?

Wishful thinking. If they had, they would have been here, or at least nearby. No, I am alone here, and I must get back if I wish to see them once more. I will not let this world defeat me, for their sake if not my own.


	2. Day 2

Damn it, Wilson!

I fell asleep again and woke up to the mid-morning sun beating down on my face. The mysterious fire starter has not shown himself, but the daylight has revealed his previous attempts. Piles of ash and mangled twigs litter the area, giving the place a 'middle of a hurricane' look, if that hurricane had also been on fire. I have heard that can happen in some countries, and I hope I am not in such a place.

It has occurred to me that if I have discovered the key to wormholes, then it would be possible for others to do the same. It is quite possible this firestarter is another lost scientist, thrown into this world against his will. If that is the case, how long has he been here? It is clear he is not skilled when it comes to constructing campfires, as my ashy surroundings suggest, but he may have no need for fires, and set one up simply for my benefit. But that makes no sense, why go to all the effort of keeping me safe when he does not even know me? Does he intend to assess me from afar? To see if I am worthy of his trust? Or maybe it was a passing act of kindness, and he has no interest in me?

As is obvious, search for the firestarter has been fruitless. So I have replaced it with the far more fruit-based and consequentially more fruitful search for food. During this mornings wanderings, I discovered a bush adorned with red berries, which I have stuffed into my pockets. As much as my stomach crows, I will not eat them just yet. Any good survivalist cooks his food to free it of toxins before consumption, and I have little interest in death by sickness.

It has dawned on me that without the help of the individual, I could be out of luck when the night returns. So, in preparation, I have equipped myself with some sharp rocks I have discovered. I have used these to collect several sticks from nearby trees, as well as a branch or two. My hands sting and the rocks are now bloody, but I have what I need. I have also collected a few others rocks that have shown promising sparks when bumped together, and I am prepared for the night ahead. In other news, my stomach has reached new levels of agony and my body is losing what little energy it had as I write this, but I cannot sate it. I will not waste my precious firewood until the night is here.

As I write this, I am sitting on the branch of a mighty evergreen, overlooking the horizon. I have decided to use this great tree as my base, as it provides protection from the elements and an excellent view. In the east, I can see a desert, a cracked tundra as far the eyes can see. In the north and west lies mountains, and in the south is yet more forest. The sun is saying its final goodbyes now as it crests over the snow-capped slopes.

It is now the night of day two, and I am alive. Who knew all those camping trips with my father would pay off like this? The berries were quite nice, if unfulfilling, and I have not yet shat myself to death. I need to get home. Who knows what this new world might hold, and how long my mediocre survival skills will keep me alive in the face of new challenges? I have only seen those strange butterflys, but only because I have not strayed too far. what of winter? And of rain? I have only the rags I came here with, how will I even sleep? What if I get sick, or break something?

Oh Charlie, my dearest Charlie, do you even know what has befallen me? Do you think me dead? And Maxwell, what of you my friend? Are you consoling her in her time of grief? Did they fall victims to the gate as well, stuck in this strange plane as I am?

Wishful thinking. If they had, they would have been here, or at least nearby. No, I am alone here, and I must get back if I wish to see them once more. I will not let this world defeat me, for their sake if not my own.


	3. Day 3

Sleep was not pleasant. The ground is uncomfortable, and the tree branches are unstable. I lapsed in and out of unconsciousness as the fire dwindled until the morning sun finally woke me up and kept me that way. I need to move on from this area and find a place to stay. Simply put, I have a single goal: get home. To do this, I shall need to create another gate. Without any of my tools, resources or infrastructure. This could take me several months if I am extremely lucky, and many years if I am not. But if I am to even survive the week, I shall need to create a base of operations.

Today, I begin my trek towards the western mountains and the setting sun. Wish me luck.

Oh, I will willy.

I...I did not write that.

I'm currently sitting under a tree at the edge of the forest, as the last of the sunrise disappears over the mountains. I do not remember writing those words at all, how...

How could someone have written in it, and how do they know my name, and why are they...flirting with me? This journal has not left my sight all day, and I haven't stopped walking until I arrived here. Truthfully, I don't remember leaving the other campfire, but the whole trip blended together as is. Aside from a few gigaflys (what I am calling these new butterflies), the trip was largely uneventful. So how in the hell did that get in here? Am I just going mad? That itching behind my ears still hasn't gone away, so maybe that has something to do with it? But what correlation could that possibly have?

This is going to drive me mad. For now, it did not happen. I am a perfectly sane human being, who does not write strange messages to himself. Why if I met such an individual, I would send for the police as soon as I could.

It's night time now, and the wind is picking up. This biome is enormous, and I'm not sure how many kilometers I've trekked. It must be at least twenty by my estimates, and the mountains are fast approaching. I should reach them in two days, if not tomorrow. Once there, I can ascend their peaks and gain a better understanding of my surroundings, and be able to see past them to whatever lies beyond. For now, my campfire is suffering, so I will have to get some more wood.

I have returned, and made a chilling discovery. As I was exploring the surroundings for more sticks, I decided to venture beyond the bounds of my campfires light. The darkness was absolute, totally obscuring my sight. The air went from temperate to bone chilling in a step, causing my limbs to lock up at the drastic temperature change. My chest got so tight I thought I might pass out, but I managed to stay conscious. Then the itchiness began, accelerating the pain from the cold into a state of lucid madness. I clutched at my ears, my hands shaking and my lungs barely taking in the air. I had to force myself to take a step back, into the warmth. The cold and itchiness left my body as quickly as they had arrived, leaving me short of breath, but otherwise unscathed.

I had no desire to experience that again, so I grabbed a stick from the fire and held aloft, casting its light into the darkness. I took a step through the threshold, then another, and another. The cold did not come back, and the itchiness was manageable. I grabbed as many sticks as I could carry, fearing the consequences of running out of torchlight, and hurried back to my campfire. The fire is now roaring nicely, and I think I will use the time until morning to nap.

Goodnight.

Day four

I have had yet another rubbish sleep. Partially due to the uneven and uncomfortable ground, and partly because of those words. "Oh I will willy." I keep rereading the passage over and over, trying to remember when or why I made it, but I find nothing. It is so alien, and yet it must be my doing. In its tired state, my brain cooked up the idea of a ghost writing me messages in order to drive me mad, but this only presents even more questions than it answers. I can feel myself get itchier whenever I think about it, so I will endeavour to set out soon. A morning walk may help to clear my mind.

It is now afternoon. Maybe 3:00PM by my reckoning. I have stopped by a small stream in order to rehydrate. The itching and the thoughts of my ghostly follower have only grown more prominent chasing themselves around the inside of my skull without resolution. I fear that if this keeps up, I shall become a gibbering lunatic before I am even a week here. Nonetheless, the water is cool and refreshing, and I have taken the opportunity to wash myself and my grimy clothing. I write this as I dry off in the afternoon sun, with my skivvies laid over a nearby boulder.

I have just witnessed something incredible. As I was drying off, a titanic beast lumbered out of the forest on the other side of the stream. It was easily twice the size of a human and longer than any horse I have ever seen, and had enormous horns jammed into each side of its skull. It had heaps upon heaps of fur, leading me to believe that it is some kind of buffalo. I managed to spot the creature before it spotted me, and I dove behind the boulder my clothes where drying on. Then I watched as another one, and another, and tens more waddled slowly out of the trees. The whole herd of super buffalo then lined up and began to drink from the stream. I felt sure that they would drain it. They where unable to but that's not to say they didn't try. Almost half an hour later, the herd finished drinking, and shuffled back into the forest, in the exact same direction I wish to travel.

Having had nothing for it, I grabbed my clothes in a bundle, waded across the stream, and ran after the beasts. I caught up with them easily, their lumbering speed no match for my nimbler size. At first, and against my better judgement, I tried to approach them. The moment I got too close, each one of the super buffalo stopped in their tracks and lifted their heads high, as if sensing my approach. I backed off, having no desire to face even one of those creatures. Once I got outside a range of about thirty metres, they seemed happy to carry on.

I followed them for the rest of the afternoon, winding and twisting through the forest at random. Finally, as the sun began to set, they all curled up in a clearing. I thought this to be my cue, and began collecting firewood. I found a larger tree that one of the buffalos had knocked over, and began using some nearby sticks to get it going. Alas, I cannot find a stick that will grant me the fire I need.

You better thank me for this willy!


	4. Day 4

I have had yet another rubbish sleep. Partially due to the uneven and uncomfortable ground, and partly because of those words. "Oh, I will willy." I keep rereading the passage over and over, trying to remember when or why I made it, but I find nothing. It is so alien, and yet it must be my doing. In its tired state, my brain must have cooked up the idea of ghostwriting messages in order to drive me mad, but this only presents even more questions than it answers. I can feel myself getting itchier whenever I think about it, so I will endeavor to set out soon. A morning walk may help to clear my mind.

* * *

It is now afternoon. Maybe 3:00 PM by my reckoning. I have stopped by a small stream in order to rehydrate. The itching and the thoughts of my ghostly follower have only grown more prominent in my mind. They chase themselves around the inside of my skull without resolution. I fear that if this keeps up, I shall become a gibbering lunatic before I am even a week here. Nonetheless, the water is cool and refreshing, and I have taken the opportunity to wash myself and my grimy clothing. I write this as I dry off in the afternoon sun, with my skivvies laid over a nearby boulder.

* * *

I have just witnessed something incredible. As I was drying off, a titanic beast lumbered out of the forest on the other side of the stream. It was easily twice the size of a human and longer than any horse I have ever seen. Enormous horns were jammed into each side of its skull, looking like branches made of stone. It had heaps upon heaps of fur, leading me to believe that it is some kind of buffalo. I managed to spot the creature before it spotted me, and I dove behind the boulder my clothes were drying on. I watched as another one, and another, and tens more waddled slowly out of the trees. The whole herd of super Buffalo then lined up and began to drink from the stream. I felt sure that they would drain it. They were unable to but that is not to say they did not try. Almost half an hour later, the Herd finished drinking, and shuffled back into the forest, in the exact same direction I wish to travel.

Having had nothing for it, I grabbed my clothes in a bundle, waded across the stream, and ran after the beasts. I caught up with them easily, their lumbering speed no match for my nimbler size. At first, and against my better judgment, I tried to approach them. The moment I got too close, each one of the super buffalo stopped in their tracks and lifted their heads high, as if sensing my approach. I backed off, having no desire to face even one of those creatures. Once I got outside a range of about thirty meters, they seemed happy to carry on.

I followed them for the rest of the afternoon, winding and twisting through the forest at random. Finally, as the sun began to set, they all curled up in a clearing. I thought this to be my cue and began collecting firewood. I found a larger tree that one of the buffalos had knocked over, and began using some nearby sticks to get it going. Alas, I cannot find a stick that will grant me the fire I need.

You better thank me for this willy!


	5. Day 5

It has happened again. What creature out her could know me well enough to know my name, but also have a nickname for me? Am I just going insane and writing myself letters?  
I blacked out yesterday and woke up to a roaring fire. Again. Then I looked over my journal to find this cryptic message. These things have to be connected, surely. Two completely unexplainable, but very human actions. This is not just my half starved mind concocting some connection where none exists.  
Both of these things happen when I cannot remember them and would require a working brain and opposable thumbs. The words were written by what I shall call 'The Other' appear to be referring to the fire that saved me from the darkness. So if we are to take those events as rote, then this being is not malicious. Instead, they would seem to want to aid me. But then why would they not reveal themselves? Why would they only reveal themselves through text and fire? Is it to mislead me? Are they grotesque in some way that I might not understand? Could my theory of another lost scientist be correct?  
All of these questions, and even fewer answers. The only way they seem to want to communicate is on the pages of this journal. So maybe if I write a question in it and leave it alone, they will answer me? It is worth a shot.  
Dear sir,  
Well, this is significantly harder than I thought. What do I even ask? What do I even know enough about to ask? Start simple Wilson, don't other think it.  
Dear sir,  
Why are you helping me?

God, stop being so formal you tosser

Ah! How?! What In the Hell just happened?

Oh Willy, do I have to spell it out for you?

Ahhhhhhh! Ok, stop stop, I get it. Clearly, somebody around here is controlling my body and making me write for them. They are obviously using hypnosis in order to control me, causing this lucid dream of a world to appear before me where I am actually still at home, safe and sound, aside from the invasive mental control.

Wooh boy... Come on, really?

Shut up. I am onto you now. You're just trying to mislead me now that I am onto something.

No, I'm making sure you don't do something retarded.

That is exactly what an evil hypnotizing monster would want me to believe! What are you doing with my body, you monster? What secrets do you hope to glean from my mind? I will have you know it is all under lock and key.

Man, for a smart guy you sure are stupid. What secrets would you even have?

You could be after the secret to my wormholes!

If I made this world up for you, then wouldn't I already have that info?

Ummm...oh.

Yeah.

Well then who in the hell are you?

The names Willow. I'd shake your hand, but I don't know where to look for it.

Willow? You are female?

Yeah, is that a problem?

I just thought... You seem so rude.

Well, cheers.

No, no I didn't mean like that, I... I do not know what I meant.

Slip of the pen, I get it. Happens to the best of us, and also you.

Mmhmm. So wait, what are you exactly? How are you puppeteering me like this?

Wow, that's a big word. Uh, I think I'm a bit of you? Maybe like a slice of your personality bits that grew into its own thing? I don't really know. Long story short, sometimes I'm in control of this body, sometimes you are.

But... But that is impossible! Surely I would've noticed my brain building another personality?

I mean, I guess you're kinda noticing now. You were complaining about that itchy feeling, maybe that's what was happening?

But you were building fires for me on night one (thank you) surely a thinking personality could not have emerged in the two hours after I arrived.

I mean, sure, but neither of us knows how long you were out when you got here. Maybe your brain went through a whole weird brain pregnancy before you woke up? Oh ew, I was a brain fetus.

What a mental image. I guess that is possible, though I do not think I know enough about psychology to say.

Yeah. Huh. I guess we're stuck like this.

It would appear so. I am going to continue the trek to the mountains, so please do not take over my body and throw me down a ravine, please.

No promises willy.

After the strangest conversation I have ever had, I set out again. The huge creatures appeared to have lumbered off, in search of new grass, leaving me alone as I traveled into the forests. The trees are alive with birds of all colors, and their song fills the air. Unlike the herd of super Buffalo and the gigaflys, these birds appear to be completely normal in size. A few even landed on the ground around me, scratching the dirt for seeds. When I tried to get close, they fluttered away, leaving the seeds unprotected. My berry stockpile is dwindling, so I collected as many seeds as possible. Charlie once showed me the correct way to cook sunflower seeds, and I am hoping I can extend it to whatever seeds these are.  
Despite the terrifying reality of having another person now taking residence in my brain, it brings a strangely comforting feeling that even in this alien wasteland, I am not on my own. True, I would much rather have someone else take up my precious brain space,

Oi

But it is nice nonetheless. Willow has helped me set up a fire, and cooked us the seeds. Another day survived, and a mystery brought to the light.


	6. Day 6

Day six

Good morning willy.

Ah! Oh, good morning willow. How long have you been up?

Sunrise. I've been trying to find food for us. Not gonna lie, these mountains are pretty crap for plants.

Did you find anything?

Nope.

Great. I was wondering why I feel so awful.

The day has gotten off to a rough start. The mountains are within sight, but the natural resources are pretty much nonexistent. Trees are dotted seemingly at random across the barren grass-scape. Only birds are out this far, fluttering overhead and in the trees. I have not eaten anything except berries and seeds since I got here, and I think my body needs some meat. The only problem, of course, is that I have utterly no idea how to create any sort of weapon or trap by which to catch the creatures that inhabit this place. The birds would be too fast for any conventional weapons anyway.

Despite the bleak outlook, I have remembered a part of what my father explained to me on our camping trips. Specifically, how to make tools. I have snatched some twine, a few sticks and some sharpened Flint that willow had been using, and I have made an axe. I will conquer this world with axe alone if need be!

The axe broke.

Wait what? I did not even get a chance to use it! What did you do?

Well, I went to get some firewood, and then I encountered a magic axe breaking creature that blew up the axe in my hands.

Really? What did it look like?

Oh my god you are a nitwit. Of course there was no axe breaking creature!

Well then how did you break it?

It just came apart. I got a few good chops in before it just gave out.

But I made it exactly as I remembered it! It should have worked perfectly!

Either your papi was a liar, or you screwed it up.

He is your father too you know.

Really? I thought you where.

Well of course he is. You are a part of me, therefore he is your father as well.

But I was born from your brain, so wouldn't that make you my papi?

No, no... Well I mean, I don't think so... I suppose you would be more of a sibling. A twin, if anything.

Oh ok. What's a twin?

Wait, how do you not know?

I don't know willy, was that something I'm supposed to know?

Um, yes. Most people know what twins are.

Well, enlighten me then.

A twin is a person with whom you shared your mothers womb. They are often the same age, and may look even more similar to you than other siblings might.

Yeah, you said that before, what are these 'siblings'? And a womb?

How do you not know this? Can you, I do not know, access my memories or something? Or my knowledge?

No? Should I be doing that?

I...I do not understand how you don't know. Can you remember anything before we arrived in this place.

Nope. Well, I remember a couple of buildings burning to the ground, and this...happiness? I'm not really sure what it is.

But that's impossible. I have never been in or around a burning building, let alone more than one. And hang on, weren't you talking about brain pregnancies and fetuses before? How do you know what those are?

I know some things! And I don't see how those things tie into wombs or those sibling things you where talking about.

You don't- how? What do you think pregnancy is?

It's like... It's where an animal grows up right? When they're created, they're not strong enough to be alive straight away, so they spend a while growing up first.

Yes, that is correct, but where do you think they are when they are doing that growing up?

In the factory. They stay in their vats until their ready to be shipped out into the world.

Wait what? No, that is not how it works at all! When a female animal wants to create new life, she and a male will...enjoy each other's company. Then, the female animal will begin to grow another one of her species in her stomach. Once it is ready, it is birthed and taken care of by its mother and father.

That's disgusting willy. And also sounds like a load of bull.

Well it is not. It is completely natural. Now if you willexcuse me, I must go and make a new axe before dusk.

Well that is surprising. It is clear that while willow got some of my knowledge, it has twisted into a version of reality unlike the one that exists. I am curious as to what other things willow does not know, but those things will likely reveal themselves in time.

My attempt at a second axe has been much the same as the first. Because I did not see my first attempt break, I do not really know what I need to improve. I did find the tree willow had been attempting to knock over, and took a few swings of my own. I had forgotten how irritating it was to pull the axe blade out after each swing. However, I almost managed to cut through the tree, when the Flint tip shattered against the wood. A few wayward pieces nicked my arms and face. Not much damage, but certainly painful. I managed to push the rest of the tree down, where it crumbled into manageable logs. I ladened my arms with as much as i could carry, and returned here to allow willow to build a fire.

As the day has come to a close, I roast my last remaining seeds and prepare for my meager meal.

Day seven

I have reached the mountains! After almost six days of travel, I have arrived at the base of the mountain summit. This also marks the end of my first week in this strange new world.

They are tall, but not tall enough that I cannot see the top. Nor are they tall enough for me not to climb. I intend to find a mountainside cave, within which I can create a base. A lair, if you will.

While these mountains are sparse, the ground here is green and lush. This suggests, at least to me, that I can grow things here and I can keep myself alive. I have one final seed in my pocket, which I can use to cultivate this land into something incredible.

My house hunting finally pays off! After hours of searching, I have located a mountainside crevice, hollowed out by time and weather. The entrance is massive, being almost three times my height and easily as wide. In the light of the setting sun, the stone walls are taking on a purple hue, with flecks of black which I assume to be coal.

It seems strange to imagine coal in a place such as this. A land unravaged by humanity, and yet a total rewriting of its landscape lays in its very foundations.

Oh spare me the poetry willy boy. You're gonna have to use it to make your fancy machines.

Oh hush willow. I won't mine the coal. Firstly, because I have nothing with which to mine, and secondly, because it's not my place. I can go home using other methods than destroying this world.

Huh, good luck.

Thank you willow.


	7. Day 7

I have reached the mountains! After almost six days of travel, I have arrived at the base of the mountain summit. This also marks the end of my first week in this strange new world. This must make it Thursday again. It was supposed to be my sister's birthday yesterday. I have not gone to her party in eight years.

The mountains are quite tall, but not tall enough to stop me seeing the top. Nor are they tall enough for me not to climb. I intend to find a mountainside cave, within which I can create a base. A lair, if you will.

While the mountains are sparse, the ground beneath them is green and lush. This suggests, at least to me, that I can grow things here and I can keep myself alive. I have one final seed in my pocket, which I can use to cultivate this land into something incredible.

* * *

My house hunting finally pays off! After hours of searching, I have located a mountainside crevice, hollowed out by time and weather. The entrance is massive, being almost three times my size in both width and height. In the light of the setting sun, the stone walls are taking on a purple hue, with flecks of black which I assume to be coal.

It seems strange to imagine coal in a place such as this. A land unravaged by humanity, and yet a total rewriting of its landscape lay in its very foundations.

Oh, spare me the poetry willy boy. Lets get it log stuff is nice, but I wanna see something really burn.

hush willow. I will not mine the coal. Firstly, because I have nothing with which to mine it, and secondly because it is not my place. I can go home without destroying this world.

Bah, you're no fun.


	8. Day 8

Day eight  
I have spent the early morning rummaging about in the cave. It was far, far deeper than I had expected, and I was not able to reach the bottom. I have discovered strange flora, including a plant that sprouts glowing bulbs, each the size of a grapefruit. I am currently using one of these to illuminate the way, as well as the pages I am writing. I have also discovered mushrooms that are easily the size of trees. Great canopies of blue mushrooms, each with a maze of roots and a hail of spores. It is akin to being in a waterless shower.  
While down in these depths, I have found more Flint. This was quickly constructed into an ax, and I intend to taste these mushroom trees.

That's not a good idea

That was not a good idea. My stomach feels overfull, even as I am still hungry, and my head is swimming. What a terrible fate, to die by mushroom.  
Ah, the feeling has gone away.

 **No mushroom kills me! Am too strong!**

Willow, is that you?

I thought it was you!

 **It is I! Wolfgang! Mightiest of men!**

Another one? I do not think I have enough space in my head!

 **Wolfgang always have space in head for you! Wolfgang can carry every puny man in his head!**

But how? How long have you existed, Wolfgang?

 **Wolfgang has been for forty years! Wolfgang cannot be killed!**

Forty years?! I am only 33! That's not possible!

 **Hah! Wolfgang not care! Wolfgang do as he pleases!**

But...

 **No buts! Wolfgang is mightier than you, and is also right!**

Jeez Willy, you know how to pick em.

 **Hah! Puny man's name is Willy! AHAHAHAHAHAHAAH! Makes much sense!**

It is Wilson, thank you very much. If you have existed for longer than I have, I think you would know that.

 **Bah, puny man is just make excuses.**

Whatever you say Wolfgang. Welcome to this weird family I suppose.

 **Wolfgang is strong uncle of family.**

If he's the uncle, I dibs being the aunt. Ooh ooh, and all my kids are always on fire! Like little fire babies!

Neither of you are anything! Your both facets of my self talking to other facets!

Rude.

 **Wolfgang would punch puny man in his face, but Wolfgang cannot find him.**

Look down at yourself Wolfgang.

 **Ah! What trick is this? Poor Wolfgang is in child's body!**

Ahahahahahahahahahah!

Hush willow. For your information Wolfgang, my body does exactly what it needs to.

 **It is needed to suck?**

Wahahahahahahaha! Oh my god, I take it back, this guy is great!

Why is my valuable brain space wasted on either of you.  
So, disheartening news. It turns out my brain can create more personalities. This new one, going by the name of Wolfgang, appears to be an asshole. He also claims to have been with me since before I was even conceived. Clearly, he is also delusional. Further evidence comes from the fact that he believes himself to be stronger, physically, than me.

Oh god, what the hell happened?

 **If Wolfgang have to live in puny man body, he will make puny man not so puny!**

I cannot feel my arms you lunatic! And I do not have enough food to support extra muscle!

 **Wolfgang will hunt food!**

Well?

 **Wolfgang did not find anything.**

Fantastic. Where are we?

 **Wolfgang thought desert would be best place for food.**

The desert? Are you kidding me? What compelled you to go to the desert for food?

 **Is nature oven. We find roasted ham here.**

Oh my god...

Oooooh, it's nice and warm out here.

Thank you for the input willow. Wolfgang, do you remember the way back?

 **The way back?**

Yes, how do we get back to the mountains?

 **Wolfgang does not know.**

Argh!  
I am so tired. Wolfgang, my newest personality, has decided to go for a run into the desert. I did manage to locate the mountains, but my legs feel like rubber. I have found shade underneath a spiky tree. I still have my latest ax, which Wolfgang was nice enough to tie to my back, so I can make firewood when night comes. The sun is getting low in the sky, and I have begun sketching a map in the final margins of this journal. Using some rough math, I can use the height of the mountains to guess the distance and... Ten kilometers! How did Wolfgang run ten kilometers? In the desert? How am I not dead right now?

 **See, Wolfgang is strong.**

Nobody is stronger than logic Wolfgang.

 **Bah. Wolfgang's muscle says other ways.**

You do not have any muscles, you are a part of my body.

Aw, let him have it willy.

No! If I do, he will keep trying to kill me!

 **Am not killing! Am helping! Wolfgang will make you ultimate machine, like Wolfgang!**

You are not, nor have you ever been, an ultimate machine! You are a part of me!

 **Wolfgang does not understand. Wolfgang thinks puny man is just scared of exercise.**

I am not "scared" of excersise, I just do not want to die of exhaustion in the center of a desert where no-one will remember my name!

 **Wolfgang will remember you puny man.**

You cannot- oh forget it, I am going to bed.


	9. Day 9

Everything hurts. My arms, my legs, my chest, even my neck hurts. It is as if I fell down a flight of stairs onto my face. And to top it all off, I have a nasty sunburn on my face. Wolfgang, this is all your fault.

 **Bah, puny man must be allergic to exercise. Wolfgang never feel pain!**

That is provably untrue. Ok, you see the mountains that you are looking at? I want you to run towards them.

Oh god, how can my muscles hurt so much? Where are we? Wolfgang, why are we in a swamp? I did not see any swamps near the mountain.

 **Wolfgang not know which mountains puny man meant.**

Spectacular.

I am currently in what appears to be a brand new biome. The ground is soggy, with dead grass coating it. The whole landscape has a sickly purple hue, and leafless trees are everywhere. I can also hear howling. Wolves, that is exactly what I needed. Knowing my luck, they will be massive. My legs hurt so much. I do not think I can afford to let Wolfgang go for another run. Willow, I need you to take over if he tries to come back out. Can you do that?

Uh, I dunno. Never tried before.

Yup, I can do it. Alright Willy, I'll keep him off ya. He's giving us one hell of a headache though.

Thank you Willow.

Alright, after half an hour of walking, I have found a valley. It appears to be an enormous crag split into the ground. Darkness obscures the bottom, so I will not be climbing down there. Midday might reveal what is at the bottom, but I can not afford to stop. This place is unsettling in its flatness, but it does mean I can find my way back to the mountains.

I have been attacked. I...I did not see it coming. This thing pulled itself out of the earth. It was almost three meters long and it moved so fast. It scratched me, raking across my chest and ripping my shirt apart. I did not have the power to fight it, but...but I am alive.

 **Wolfgang fought the beast!**

You did? But I told Willow...

Sorry Willy. I wasn't gunna let us die. 'Sides, he said he could help.

What...what did you do Wolfgang?

 **Wolfgang used puny man's pen to stab the monster. Wolfgang was victorious!**

Oh...that explains the purple goo...

Thank you, Wolfgang.

 **Is no problem. Why Wolfgang feel so woozy all of sudden?**

That would be.


	10. Day 10

This is bizarre. I fought off a monster. Well, Wolfgang fought it off, but he used my body. My body. The one that lost blood, that sustained a concussion, that was so tired from running it could barely walk. And it fought a monster. Am I more powerful than I thought?

I have kept the barbs from the creature, and I have fashioned them into a weapon, like that of a scythe. I have used this scythe to skin this creature, returning a purple, frog-like hide. I sampled some of its meat, but it tastes fatty and smells of death, so I have left it alone.

Despite this hidden power of mine, I should not be making a habit of unconsciousness. For this reason, Wolfgang will be remaining under lock and key unless there is an emergency. I am making progress towards the mountains, but my limbs sting so much and my stomach is screaming for food. I wish I had taken some meat from that monster. Awful as it was, anything is better than starvation.

Urgh. This land is so barren. Even after two hours of walking, I have found only dusty earth. At least I did not encounter another monster, but I have encountered nothing at all. I need to get back to the mountains, I need to create some sort of home. I cannot wander for the rest of my days. I must create a place to survive. Else I will be unable to get home, unable to see Jennifer and Maxwell and my dearest Charlie.

 **Ooooh, puny man found cute girly named Jennifer? Wolfgang may beat puny man to punch on that one.**

Oh my what? No! No! Wolfgang, that is my sister! What are you...ew! Wolfgang, not alright! Not alright at all! Willow, I thought I told you to keep him down!

It seemed harmless!

Well it really was not! That is disgusting!

 **Well if puny man cannot have her, Wolfgang has no competition.**

You are a part of me for Heck's sake! She is either your sister or your aunt, and if we make it back home I am forbidding you from talking to her!

 **Puny man cannot stop true love.**

Dude, you don't even know what she looks like.

Exactly! All you know of her is name and that she is my sister! You should have no feelings to her at all!

 **Wolfgang is-**

Ok, that's enough of that. Willy, focus on walking.

Thank you willow. That was getting disgusting.

Well, that is a disturbing revelation. Wolfgang is not allowed to talk to my sister, under any circumstances, ever. Nor is anyone to tell him who my sister is. Keeping that a mystery to him is the best course of action.

The sun is starting to set. I have gathered a few more bits of dry wood for a fire, and I am settling in for the night. The day seems to have been uneventful. My strength has not returned, but I hope a good sleep will fix that, among other things.

Is that? I can hear howling. It is getting closer. Wolfgang, I need you now.

 **Wolfgang does not want to help puny man.**

What, why?

 **Puny man not let Wolfgang meet love of life!**

Wolfgang, she is your sister!

 **Wolfgang have no sister!**

Yes, you do! Please, just stay out and keep guard!

 **Wolfgang not guard dog! Wolfgang am big grizzly, and Wolfgang want girl!**

Well, we cannot get the girl if neither of us is alive now can we?

 **Wolfgang will survive.**

No, you- oh my god whatever.

Wolfgang refuses to help, I am on my own. Crud.


	11. Day 11

Never again. No no no no no no no not okay. This is all your fault Wolfgang!

Not talking huh? Of course. When I do not need you, you never shut up. But the moment a monster comes along, you are nowhere to be seen. You are...you know what you are? You...you are a phallus! Yeah, that is right, a phallus! A big old disgusting phallus! Who talks about their own sister like that? What kind of person? I will tell you: a phallus! Because that is what you are!

Woah, Woah, Wilson, take it down a notch man, what happened? Jesus, what happened to your arm? Is that blood?

Wolves is what happened. One wolf, the size of me, attacked in the middle of the night. I was yelling at the both of you for help, but neither of you came!

Dude, you know we can't actually hear you right?

I know that, but the point is still there!

Hang on, I can cauterize the wound.

Ow! Why would you do that Willow?

So you don't bleed to death or die of infection you nit.

I would not even need this if Wolfgang had helped instead of fawning over my sister.

I do not even want to talk about what happened. Suffice to say I'm now in even more pain, but at least mobile again. The mountains are finally within reach, and berry bushes adorn it's lower steps. After picking these clean and replenishing my strength, I continued walking. The muscular pain from Wolfgang's runs is starting to subside, which I am grateful for. Of course, this does not leave me devoid of pain, but it is a nice start.

I do not think Wolfgang or Willow are talking to me. I have faded out a few times now, and we are making good headway. Now is a good time to take stock and get my bearings. My pockets currently contain a few chunks of Flint, about 10 fresh berries, my pen, and journal. My ax is still strapped to my back with what little twine I have. My clothing is in tatters. My shirt has no front or sleeves, revealing my sunburnt and scratched skin. The knees of my slacks have been destroyed, but the rest of the garment is unharmed. My shoes are covered in foul gunk, and I have had to remove several rocks from them. My hair, as ever, remains unharmed and refuses any attempts to compress or flatten it. However, my face has become itchy with the oncoming of beard hair. Without my trusty razor, I will look like a savage within the week.

The way I see it, I need to get my priorities in order. At the top of the list is getting home. In order to do that, I need to obtain or invent the necessary parts to build a gate home. To get such materials, I will have to use all the knowledge and resources at my disposal. But I must also make sure I am safe so that I can devote myself to this task. This means constructing some sort of base. A farm would also be good. I might be able to domesticate some of the creatures here, but that is far more long term.

I have found a cave. It is much shallower than my previous find, reaching only a few meters into the rock face. However, it is perfect for my purposes. I will base myself here, in Mount Wilson.

That's a dumb name.

Oh, could you think of something better?

Uh, yeah? How about...the hills of fire.

Well, I suppose that's as good a name for the mountain range as any, but that does not name the individual mountain.

Huh. Mount willow?

Yeah, no.

Who gave you naming rights?

Me! I named it first! Who gave you questioning rights?

It's a free country.

A little too free... But that changes nothing. I named the mountain first, so it's the one we're sticking with.

Fine, but the next one is being named mount Willow. Deal?

Very well.

 **Wolfgang wants mountain!**

Where the hell have- urgh, what do you want to call your mountain?

 **Wolfgang call it...mount Exousia!**

What, why?

 **Exousia is name of power in ancient language. Wolfgang mountain most powerful of mountains!**

Wow, that...that is correct. Alright Wolfgang, that can be yours.

 **Yes! Wolfgang will ride up mountain every day on small donkey!**

No. Not happening.

Night comes, Willow has made a fire, and the full moon smiles down upon me, like the watchful eye of God. For now, I will sleep, but tomorrow I must begin work.


	12. Day 12

It is midday, but I have been up for a while. I awoke before the sun had even started to rise, and began my way down Mount Wilson. I have spent the morning foraging. I have found twine and wood, which I made into a sled. Then I found even more wood and berries. My ax broke after that, so I picked even more berries and snapped off some sticks. I found some Flint and an enormous stone sticking out of the ground. It appears to be made of granite, which I could mine, if I remembered how to make a pickax. All in all, it has been a good day so far. I used some of the loose pebbles and wood to make a fire pit within the mountain. I used a bit of Flint to chip out a hole deep enough to store the wood, and then encircled it with stones. I think I can call this my very first base!

Why are you doing this?

Uh, excuse me? Who are you?

Oh, nobody that matters.

Well, you are in my head, so I will be the judge of that. And what do you mean "why are you doing this"? To make sure I do not die seems a good enough answer.

We're all going to die. Doesn't matter if it happens now or later.

What? Yes it does! I need to see my sister again! My friends! My wife!

No, you don't. They'll all be dead too. Nothing matters.

A philosophy major are we? Quite a few things matter, as I just outlined. Now please tell me, what is your name?

Fine, I'll tell you. But it won't make you happy. My names Wendy.

That is a nice name.

No it isn't.

Hey Willy. Wow, you aren't having much luck with these personality babies of yours.

Yes, I had noticed. This one is a little ray of sunshine as you can tell.

The sun burns everyone to death and then itself.

Aw hell yeah! That's how I wanna go!

I am starting to get the feeling that I am going mad. I have never heard of anybody gaining three new personalities over the course of twelve days. It seems impossible. I mean, how would they all fit? In fairness, I must be running out of space. Each personality seems to be getting more one dimensional as time goes on. I would have to hope so. I mean, are more coming? It is useless clutter, just nagging voices when I could be getting real work done. Burn this, lift that, give up on everything. The trifecta of irritation.

Aw, Willy, you sure know how to make a girl feel special

Not even having this conversation. The base construction is going well, if slowly. I have stockpiled my berries in a cooler part of the cave. My sled remains parked inside the cave, along with my new ax and firewood. The sun is starting to set over the landscape, and I was not able to get much done during that conversation. Switching between personalities is so time-consuming.

I have begun work on a door and barricades, so that I may hide within the cave during attacks. I am no carpenter, and I was barely able to shape a few planks before the sun had set. I sacrificed some of them to the fire, and they burn well. I will need to get more wood tomorrow in order to complete this door, but this is a good start. I will also need to fashion some nails from all this Flint.

That may take a while...


	13. Day 13

It is raining. I woke up, and it was raining. I can feel a cold spell coming on, and I dare not venture out for fear of illness. I have, instead, spent most of the morning trying to build this infernal door. Wrapping planks together with twine didn't work, as they all fell apart. So I tried to make a frame to nail the wood too. However, I do not have a hammer, nor nails. So I have been trying to carve flint into nails using my flint knife. Unfortunately, it does not have a handle, and I have blisters and cuts running along my fingers. It hurts, even now, to write this entry. But I need a rest from all this. None of my personalities have come out this morning, not once. Normally they pop in and out at their leisure, but today; nothing. Perhaps they are sleeping.

Wait, wouldn't they sleep when I sleep? Well, it's possible that they could need sleep that they cannot get through my physical body. But what purpose would that even serve? Would it need a purpose though, or could it simply happen? Everything needs a purpose, or else the very laws of science would break down. Well, then I suppose it might be to stop strain on my mental faculties. That would explain why they're all doing it at once.

Nah, we just didn't think we should come out.

Oh. Okay then.

So, willy, how're tricks.

Um, well, you know. The construction of the door is slow and painful, and the rain has been near constant. Our food supplies are starting to dwindle again, and my hands sting. Oh, and my arm still hurts.

Willy, you need to learn how to be an optimist.

I am an optimist.

Uh-huh. See, you gotta take the good from the bad. It's bad for your brain to always be thinking about negative stuff.

Well thank you guru willow, but I think it is as bad for my brain to have this many people living in it.

Nonsense. See, here's the thing. The door is being built, it's raining for the first time since we arrived, which means more water that's easy to access, and when your hands heal, they'll be even stronger! If you think about it like that, nothing'll get you down!

What about the food supplies?

Yeah, I was just wondering. How are you low on food? Didn't you get a crap-ton of berries before?

A what-ton? If you mean a lot, then yes, but I eat to cope with pain.

For a smart guy, that was a dumb thing to do.

Excuse me, did you spend all morning skinning your own hands to make us shelter?

No, but I'm also not the one who ate almost all our food when they couldn't go and get any more!

There are still plenty of berries left. We will last today and half of tomorrow, at least.

A day. We went from, what, a weeks worth to a day? Forget optimism, you need some self-control! Wolfgang must be rubbing off on you.

You should eat all the berries. Get it over with and starve to death. Or you'll choke on one. Or you could go and get more, then you'll drown to death.

Thank you, Wendy, for the worst case scenario. Alright, I am going to go back to work, I have had enough of this.

* * *

It's evening now.

Thank god for the obvious huh?

Well, you and I know it, but the book knows nothing but what I put in it! Anyway, it's evening. I have stoked the fire on my own tonight.

Yeah, it's pretty crap.

Okay, what is with you?

Hey, don't turn this on me, my fires don't suck.

Clearly, something has happened. Charlie used to do this all the time, criticize whatever happened when she was mad.

I'm not mad.

That is a load honkey.

You're a grown man Will, use a damn swear word.

No thank you! I am a gentleman and a scientist! I would not demean my intellect with those foul words! You should not either, it is not very ladylike.

Excuse me?

You heard me, it is not ladylike.

Why you son of -

 **What is go on?**

Nothing Wolfgang, go back inside. This is between me and your sis-

 **Wolfgang bored. Wolfgang not wrestled bear since last time Wolfgang wrestle bear.**

What do you expect me to do about it?

Why don't you find him a bear mister 'scientist'!

I work in theoretical fields and engineering! I can no more conjure him a bear than you can!

 **Wolfgang will also accept big raccoon.**

Oh but surely, theoretically, there's a way to get him a damn bear!

You are changing the subject! And please, stop swearing!

Or what? What will you do, huh?

I-

Damn! Bloody! Penis! Vagina! Shit! Fuck!

Please, Eno-

...

 **Wolfgang go inside now.**

So Willy, what are you- are those...are you crying?

Enough. I'm going to bed.

Willy-


	14. Day 14

Uh, hey. Willy's not...well, he's in a mood. I mean, all that over a word? Nuts right? Anyway, I'm kinda taking over this for a while. It's still raining out, and I'm forced to ration out these berries. Still can't believe he went and ate the whole stock. Keeps banging on about his wife and his mate but he can't stop himself from eating our only source of food. I swear, I should be running this show. We would be so much better off if I could stay out here all the time. We'd never be wet, or cold, or have anything that wasn't cooked. In fact, this journal's not doing us much good, and we are running out of firewood, so-

No, no no no, I forbid you to finish that thought. I leave for five minutes and I come back to this? How dare you! And I am not in some "mood"!

You so are. You're on the male version of a period dude. I mean, who gets so messed up over a word!

Aahhhhh! Ew! No! End of discussion, right now!

I have nothing more to write about today. It was uneventful, it rained, little else happened.

Goodnight.


	15. Day 15

The rain continues to fall against the walls of Mount Wilson, but it has eased up enough to venture out. I went down the slopes to try and corral some food, only to find the earth had turned to a muddy slush. It feels like a hurricane without the wind. Despite the ruined earth, I was able to find some food in the form of a dead mega-buffalo. It was small, so it must only have been a baby, but small is all relative. With this much meat, I should have plenty of food to wait out the storm. It was irritating to get it up the mountain, but I can only imagine how much harder it would have been if I had not had my sled. On a related note, I must build my next sled out of stronger materials than tree bark and vines. As I was bringing it up the slope, the reins snapped and almost cost me the meat. Nonetheless, I have the food tucked away in the back of this cave, ready for later consumption.

I take it you're feeling better?

Not talking to you. You are a voice in my head, lalalalala.

I don't think sticking your fingers in your ears works with writing.

Just the crazy opinion of a voice in my head which I do not have to listen to.

 **Hah! You are voice in head!**

Oi, if I am, you are too y'know.

 **Wolfgang not understand.**

Why bother understanding when nothing is worth understanding? It's all going to end one day, and all that understanding dies with us.

You are just the life of the party aintcha?

There is no party, this is only the many parts of myself bickering with each other because I am going mad.

Oh stop it willy, you're going to drive yourself crazy talking like that. Well, crazier I suppose.

Bah! I need to walk, clear my head.

Where too exactly? It's raining cats and those other things out there.

The word you're looking for is 'wolves'. And I am not scared of any rain.

* * *

Wilson A Percival. A man.

Sorry, I'm new to this narrator gig.

A-hem.

Wilson A Percival stood up from his notebook. It looked far older now, tattered, worn and browning. The pen that lay next to it was in better condition, but that's not to say much. Trapped inside were the only words Wilson had heard from another "human being" in over two weeks. During this time, he had taken to muttering things to himself. Comments about the weather, his clothes, or about the time of day. If he had to define it, he might call it small talk. Like most introverts, Wilson had never had much use for small talk with other people, much less himself. In fact, he'd never been a particularly chatty man at all. He had prided himself on saying only what needed to be said.

This practice made him come across as rude in social gatherings and a know it all at work. Lord knows how he found friends, let alone a wife. But I suppose that's what certain people can do to you, bring you out of whatever box you put yourself in. It's a pleasant thing more often than not. If Wilson was in his right mind, he might wonder if this small talk was his fault, or if it was another one of his errant personalities, albeit one with less written skill. He looked out of the cave and saw what might as well have been a waterfall. Water came from the sky in the hundreds of liters, pulverizing the ground. Wilson could not even see the clouds or the forest when he looked out. Instead, Wilson turned inwards. Stalactites and stalagmites littered the corners of the cave. They looked almost decorative for their haphazard placement, like squat stone conversation pieces. The smoldering embers of the fire sat in the middle of the room, set into a divot in the floor

His small pile of berries, firewood, and one dead animal were clustered to the back of the room, near his sled. He wondered if it was wise to store food this way. Still, it was all he could do for now. The sled was looking far worse for wear than even the dead animal. It was full of holes, with loose twine wrapped around it and bits of berry juice and blood mingling together. Grabbing a handful of leaves, Wilson stooped down to try and clean some of the runoff. The leaves weren't that absorbent, but he got the job done. The thin liquid mix drained off the sled and slipped backward, into the cave wall. More specifically, into a crack in the cave wall. This crack wasn't very thick, but it was long, stretching in one continuous run all the way up to the ceiling some four meters above Wilson. Wilson tapped the rock and heard an echo behind it. A clear echo, like the other side was close.

Wilson looked around for something to hit the crack with, but he couldn't see anything. He searched for a few more moments before he realized what he had to try. Taking a few steps back, he braced himself as he charged forward, shoulder first, into the wall. He collided with the stone, and chips flew backward. The echo was loud and reverberated on both sides. His shoulder sung with pain, but it was more shock than anything else. He stepped back again and charged once more. The wall crumbled beneath his weight, and his momentum carried him into the new cave. It's rather miraculous he managed that. I mean, he's what, 130 pounds? That wall's got to be made of tissue paper! The inside of this back room was dark, and Wilson stood still a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they didn't, he pressed his hands to the wall and began to slide across it.

Unfortunately for Wilson, his nostrils weren't affected by the dark, so he could smell the awful stink that permeated the cave air. Imagine the smell of blood-soaked saliva mixed with burnt, wet, and salted dog, garnished with a hint of something unspeakable. After Wilson had finished throwing up, he decided to leave the cave alone for a few hours to let the smell disperse. This would've been a smart move, if the smell didn't seep out into the entire cave. But it did, thus forcing Wilson to stand outside to avoid throwing up again. Luckily, the smell did not seem to want to interact with the rain. Of course, Wilson now had to get back in. He had only been standing there mere moments, and his entire body was already drenched. The rain, like everything else, was about as forgiving as a brick to the teeth. As Wilson's hair began to lose its shape, Wolfgang took over.

Wolfgang, having no idea what was going on, turned around and walked into the cave. He would've thrown up too, had it not been for his rule against such things. So, like any self-respecting man, he swallowed his pride with his food and carried on into the cave. By the time he had reached the hole, he was doing his best to hold in every one of his bodily fluids, with positive results. Makes you wonder how Wilson is such a ponce when his body can do all this. Anyway, Wolfgang stepped through the hole, with the not incorrect reasoning that there might be some smelly beast hiding behind the cave. He faced the same problem as Wilson in this new room, in that he could see nothing. Instead of taking the cautious approach, he proceeded to charge into the darkness with a strange gargling noise emitting from his lips. He would later call this a "battle cry", but it was far more akin to a frog mating session gone terribly, terribly wrong. Wolfgang was now a ways into the back area of the cave, and the smell seemed to have gone stale. This should have made it even worse, but instead it became mellower and not quite as vomit inducing. It was here that Wolfgang switched into Willow, who took one look at the fact she couldn't see and started panicking.

Not many people know this, not even Willow herself, but she is not fond of dark, enclosed spaces. In fact, I have heard these kind of things called Fo-bee-yah's. Which is strange, as this situation doesn't have anything resembling bees. I suppose a dislike of enclosed spaces could stem from a fear of being in a beehive, but that seems awfully specific. Anyway, Willow was freaking out pretty much the moment she had gotten her bearings, and this was in no way helped by the muffled, but still awful smell emanating from everywhere. So she did the only sensible thing and began trying to light a fire. She fell to the floor, grasping to try and find a suitable rock. She ripped off a bit of Wilson's pants, got her rock, and struck the ground underneath the pants. There was a click, and the pants caught. For a moment, her breathing evened out, the tiny flicker of flame on the fabric providing immediate comfort. However, with this comfort came a flickering memory. Whether it was from Wilson or from Willow, she did not know, but it told her what this smell was.

She dropped the fabric, leaving it to flicker in the darkness, and began to run as fast as she could. The flame burnt, swished, and then caught. It billowed outwards, igniting the disgusting air in a great ball of flame. The entire cavern was lit up for the split second before the fireball filled the space. Willow kept running, wanting to look back when she swapped to Wilson. Wilson did not know what was going on, and looked back. If he'd been able to process what was happening, he might've wet himself, but it all happened too fast. He flew backwards, riding the explosion like a wave. He flailed his limbs about as the fire licked at his body, cutting painful burns into his skin. All until the force of the explosion carried him off the edge of the cavern. He fell, down, down, down. The shock of the cold water slamming against him brought all his adrenaline out at once. He flailed, kicking up a lot of waves, but not swimming. He begun to sink, which only fueled his panicked flailing, which in turn cost him a lot of oxygen. Blackness crept across the edges of his vision and became all he could see.


	16. Day 15, part two

"Alright willy, time to get up."

Wilson opened his eyes. I've always liked those eyes of his. Very big and brown, not much white to them. It's like the eyes of a lovable German Shepard in the head of a man. His left eye has a strange blood vessel that curves around his iris. You can't see it until someone tells you about it, but once you do, you never shake it. His eyelashes are quite long, much to the envy of his wife. It all lends a strange look to his face, that of curiosity or of love. The distinction of the two depends on what he's looking at and who's describing it. But at that moment, it was curiosity. For you see, Wilson could not. The darkness was all consuming. But where one sense failed, another picked up the slack. He focused his hearing and found two things; the sound of rushing water, and the sound of breathing. Wilson, being a master of self-preservation, felt it best to start making threats.

"Do not come any closer," he proclaimed, meaning to sound much more menacing than his voice would allow. "I am armed and dangerous."

"Yeah, that stink you've got going on is hella somethin'," replied the voice. It was English, Wilson knew that, but it was being filtered through some other strange dialect. All the words this being spoke slurred together as if their mouth were a blender.

"Australians," Wilson muttered, and then, a little louder, "alright, who are you? And what do you want with me?"

"Wow. Y'don't recognize me?" The person said. There was a loud clack, causing Wilson to jump. Sparks flew as two rocks came together, illuminating the cavern for a moment. Holding one of the rocks was a creature. Enormous, glassy eyes sitting above a thin-lipped, but smiling mouth, "it's me, Willy."

"No," realization and panic came upon Wilson like waves. He looked around, moved his hands across the rocks, desperate for a way out, a way to escape, "no no no no no."

"Woah, willy, you alright?" Willow asked, dropping her stone and walking over to him. Her feet made wet clicking noises against the stone.

"No no no, you do not exist. You do not exist. You should not exist, not here. You are a character, a character I made up," Wilson said, his voice strangled. Neither of them would've heard it, were it not the only noise in this place.

"Willy, I was always real, and you knew it. Look, I can prove it to you," came the voice to Wilsons left, very close. He felt a hand latch around his own, a very real, very human hand. It was soft, the softest thing he'd held in a week. He yanked his own hand back, tripping backward and trying to crawl away.

"Not real, not real, not real, all in my imagination, not real, not real," Wilson said. His heart beat in his throat, his lungs were screaming, his legs were hurting. He curled up into a ball atop the rock, shivering for his soaked clothes, for the cold air, for the fear. Shivering for the madness that had finally breached his mind.  
Willows hands, or perhaps his own, grabbed him roughly. He shrieked in return, and it echoed throughout the cavern. The hands tore off his shirt. The cold air felt much worse against his bare skin, and his scream died to a whimper as it seized him. The clacking came back. Once. sparks flew, and Wilson jolted in place. The gaunt eyes of willow seemed to take on a demonic quality, and she was no longer smiling. Twice. Wilson recoiled and turned away, not wanting to look at the demon born of his brain. Thrice. This time, the light stayed. Willow had managed to set fire to Wilson's shirt and was holding it up, high in the air.

"Real enough for ya?" Willow asked, her tone spiteful, but her face not quite living up to it. She sighed, "listen, I know this ain't fun, but we need to get moving or we'll starve, okay?" No noise came back, and Willow approached. Wilson didn't want her to touch him, didn't want to feel that soft hand again. But Wilson wasn't in control anymore. Wolfgang sat up, causing Willow to fall backward and almost drop her burning cloth. They looked at each for a moment.

"Willy?" She asked.

" **You will not have it wench!** " Wolfgang proclaimed, leaping to his feet.

"Ah, hey Wolfgang," Willow said, smiling despite herself. Well, I say smile, it's more of one side of her face peeling up. Like a snarling wolf with kind eyes. Well, I say kind...

" **How you know Wolfgang's name? Where is Wolfgang?** " He looked around at the darkened cavern, and the shaking did not leave him. Though he looked much better shirtless than Wilson did. I bet it's a posture thing.

"Wolfgang, this is gonna sound nuts, but it's me, willow," she said.

" **Oh! So you are one making puny man angry!** " Wolfgang said, chuckling to himself, " **why Wolfgang not seen you before? Are you witch, sending puny man letters that appear in book?** "

"Uh," Willow said, looking down at the flaming cloth she was holding in her bare hands, "I don't think so... No, I was in will- I mean puny man's body, like you are."

" **Eurgh. Does this mean Wolfgang have cooties?** " He asked, scratching something behind his ears.

"Wha- no? Why would you have- eh, I don't care," she replied as she shook her head. "Listen, we're in this weird cave, and we need to get out."

" **Oh! Wolfgang remember! Cave smell better now,** " he said, sniffing deeply and getting a salty, but not unpleasant smell.

"Yeah, I think that's the water," Willow said, getting to her feet, "come on."

Wolfgang stood up and they began to walk. The ground was uneven and sharp, so they ended up slipping and cutting themselves as they walked. The dim light of the burning clothes did not seem to help matters, aside from keeping them both calm. They finally found a wall with enough slope that they might be able to scale it. Wolfgang went first, climbing up the wall with such speed that he outran the light. Willow went behind, providing illumination for them both. They reached the top without issue and braced themselves for the smell, but nothing came.

" **Why is cave smell not bad now?** " Wolfgang asked as he hauled himself onto the floor of the cavern.

"I might've blown up the smell. I wish I could've watched it go up though, I reckon it'd've been beautiful," Willow replied. She gazed down into the burning rag she was holding with a hopeless longing.

" **Huh. Good,** " Wolfgang replied, trudging back to the cave entrance, " **why go into smelly room anyway?** "

"I dunno...maybe the diary will say somethin about it," Willow offered, stepping out of the hole in the wall. The rain was still pounding away outside, with no star or moonlight getting through. The light from the still burning shirt seemed to be fighting to stay seen. The darkness outside seemed to be as bad as the one behind them.

"It is a journal," Wilson said, stumbling out behind her. He walked over to a nearby wall, fell against it and slid to the ground, head in his hands.

"Oh willy, you're back!" Willow moved in for a hug of some kind, but she stopped herself, "are you feelin' any better?"

"No."

"Oh."

There was a long silence between the two of them. Willow set to work on a fire, scrounging up the last of the damp wood. In a few minutes, she had used the now smoldering shirt to light it all. Wilson did his best to sulk, but the cold air got the better of him and he joined willow at the fireside.

"Why are you here," he asked, his eyes not leaving the fire.

"Well, when a Wilson and his brain love each other very much..." She began.

"You know what I mean," his voice was muffled, but she could still hear the... What was that emotion? Anger? Fear? Defeat?

"I dunno willy. I was in your body, now I've got my own," Willow replied, shrugging her shoulders. She looked down at her legs, at her arms, and twirled one of her pigtails without thought.

"That makes no sense. People don't pop out of other people like that."

"Don't they grow in bellies where you come from?" She asked, poking the fire with a stick, "maybe you had me growing in your belly."

"That's not even close to how it works," he said.

"Well, how do you know? It's not as if people often pop into other peoples heads in the first place."

"I am a scientist. You tend to know the basics of human reproduction if you are a scientist. And I thought you were something my mind made to stop me feeling so alone."

"Imma be straight with you, but the way you described It didn't seem basic at all,"

"Well when we get back, I will find you some textbooks," Wilson said, "though maybe not one with pictures, because that is too uncouth. To this day, I still do not know why they print them."

There was silence for a few minutes, until Willow piped up, "so... You got any ideas on why I exist now?"

"Well, I am wondering if there was something in that water, but short of magical ponds, I have nothing," Wilson replied, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

They did not exchange any more talk that night. They roasted a meager berry meal before turning in for the night.


	17. Day 16

To begin. So much has happened since I last sat down to write. I found that the cave I have taken up residence in is far larger than I had thought. It also turned out to be more dangerous than I expected. This new back area I found was too dark to see and smelled of something dead a thousand times over. I do not remember what happened in between my entering and the rest of the day, but Willow told me that she ended up "exploding the smell" as it were. She did tell me the name of whatever the smell was, but I think she made it up. I was thrown down the cavern into a strange pool and knocked unconscious for a time. When I was roused, it was by willow. Not my own mind's willow, but that willow made flesh and blood by the strange unholiness of this place. She seems to be as my hands wrote her, but I fear a demon or a shapeshifter of some kind. They may use me for sustenance or as a slave. After all, this...willow, is like no other human being I have ever met. Her eyes have no pupils and are too large for her skull, yet she is able to see perfectly. Even stranger, she is able to hold fire, to touch it without pain or damage. No human would be up to such a task or look such a way. But then the obvious question is why be so blatantly inhuman? If the demons task was to fool me, why be so transparent? Certainly, it should be impossible for a part of my brain to manifest as human, but I have seen no writing coming from willow since this beast came to be. Time will tell I suppose, but I must keep up my guard.

Now that there are two of us, we will be going through food twice as fast. Willow does look quite a lot smaller than me, but from the way she eats it is likely due to a strong metabolism. It's rather strange really. From a creature supposedly born from my brain, she does not look much like me. And I still don't know where she got those clothes from. Are they a part of her? Did she make them, or find them?

Okay, according to Willow, they were on her when she was "born", as it were. So if she is to be believed, then that means they must be a part of her. So then the question is, what are they made of?

* * *

"Excuse me?"

"Can you give me your shirt?" Wilson said, as if he were asking for a cup of sugar.

"Uh, what? Why?" Willow asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I need to find out what material your clothes are made from,"

"Dude, it's cloth. Seriously, why do you care?"

"Are the clothes fused to you? Can you even take them off?"

"Of course I can you twit, what kind of clothes do you think these are?" She replied, gesturing to her blouse, skirt, and leggings.

"I do not know, that's why I want to check," Wilson replied, "do you not think it is strange to be birthed into existence with perfectly fitting clothes already on you?"

"Uh, no? What, did you expect me to come out naked?" Willow replied, genuine surprise crossing her face.

"What kind of... Okay, give me your shoe at least," Wilson replied.

"Fine, but I better get it back," Willow slipped off one of her heeled shoes and threw it at Wilson, who fumbled the catch and dropped in his lap, where it hit painfully against his crotch. One sudden intake of breath later, Wilson was lying down, examining the shoe.

* * *

My previous hypothesis was incorrect. Willow is not connected to her clothing, at least not her shoes. Examination shows rather little, as they feel, for all intents and purposes, like ordinary shoes. In fact, I am sure I have seen Charlie wear a pair just like these. The tread, the shape, the strange leather smell. It is all the same. The only difference is that these are about a size or two smaller. That and the awful smell of foot emanating from the inside.  
It could be possible that these shoes, as well as the rest of Willow's attire, was created from my own mind, my own subconscious, just as she was. Okay, I must simplify this. The scientific method has done good things for me, so let's break it into hypotheses.  
Hypothesis one, Willow is a being created from my own fevered and crazed mind, like an illusion or some sort of hallucination. This one's tricky, as on the one hand we have all these similarities to things in my subconscious, but on the other we have her influencing the world in ways I couldn't be doing, either because I don't know how or because I am doing something else at the time. However, it is also perfectly possible that I am currently starving to death and hallucinating everything that's happened since day one. I hope it isn't that, but I have no accurate way of knowing.  
Hypothesis two, Willow is a shape-shifting demon. I think this can be discounted, unless this demon can somehow copy what's in my mind but doesn't know how people look or act.  
Hypothesis three, Willow is a real human being, born from my brain, with supernatural powers and clothes that come from nowhere.  
Personal note: find out how to make alcohol.

On the upside, the rain appears to finally be abating. The forest is becoming visible, and I can see some clouds. Almost three and a half days of bucketing rain. What kind of place is this to have such weather? I think I should get out and get as many supplies as possible in case this is only the eye of the storm.

* * *

Wilson's pen went down and the journal was closed. He stood up, looked outside and shivered under a cool breeze. His white chest was still clearly exposed to the elements, and it looked even paler than usual.

"You alright?" Willow asked, looking up from the fire she was poking with those haunting eyes.

Wilson picked up a sharpened stone and walked towards the meat husk of the mega-buffalo. "I will be fine," he said, as he began to rake the stone through the skin.

The knife, as it were, did its work. The blood of the creature had dried and become brownish red. It didn't flow so much as it peeled off to reveal redder blood beneath it. Even in death, the creature's blood clotted. Cutting the flesh, as Wilson did so inexpertly, released a strong iron smell. It was dry, dry enough to feel like you were choking on it, with an ugly sweetness underlying it all. It took about half an hour, but Wilson finally cut out enough hide to make a coat. Well, he thought he had. In fairness, it looked more like a cape, or a rather large and square scarf. It was still bloody on the inside, and it had chunky bits of flesh still clinging to it. He wrapped around his shoulders and torso, leaving his pasty midriff exposed to the elements. It looked like a very poorly made poncho, which I suppose is what it was.

"Ew," was all Willow had to say as Wilson walked back to the cave entrance. She pinched the bridge of her nose and mimed gagging.

"It will do until I can find what passes for sheep here," Wilson said, trying not to gag himself, "now, I must go and gather supplied. I will be back within a few hours."

"Wait, you're leaving me alone? There's nothing to do here," Willow said, hopping to her feet, "besides, I want to go exploring."

"No no no, it is far too dangerous for you out there," Wilson replied.

"Yeah, because I'm soooooooo defenseless," Willow said, grabbing a burning log with her bare hands, "oooh, that feels pretty nice."

"Point taken," Wilson said, tearing his eyes from the crackling log, "just do not leave my sight."

They began to walk down the mountain. They weren't high up enough for it to be steep, but there was a still a lot of loose stones for them both to trip on. And trip they did. Willow fell on her butt first, much to Wilsons amusement. He was laughing so hard that he didn't notice Willow getting back up. She leaped forward, pushing him back into his sled. Willow watched him careen down the hill, screaming at the top of his lungs as her smile grew wider and wider, till she began to run, arms out, down the hill. Wilson bounced and rocked and did everything he could to keep his bones intact, picking up speed until the wind was all but pulling his poncho off his shoulders. In less than a minute, he hit the grass, and was bucked off by a particularly strong bump. He landed on the grass and carried his momentum, rolling wildly through the brush. He finally came to a stop with his arms and stomach covered in grass burns. Seconds of stunned silence passed before willow appeared above him, panting and smiling that primal smile of hers.  
It was at this very moment that Wendy came out.

"Are you death?" She asked, a little bit of hope seeping into her monotone voice.

"Hehehehehe, you're not hurt that bad you faker," Willow replied, brushing some hair out of her face and helping Wendy to her feet.

"Who are you?" Wendy asked, looking down at her chafed arms.

"I'm Willow? You're not Willy, are you?" Willow said, knowing the answer, "wasn't there someone else... Wait, are you Wanda?"

"Wendy," Wendy said.

"Oh. Well, cool! It's a pleasure ta meetcha," Willow said, sticking out a hand.

Wendy looked at it, and then back at Willow.

"Okay, no handshake," she retracted the hand and looked around, "Alright, well Willy said we need supplies, so let's go do some 'splorin!"

"Suplorin?"

"'Splorin! You know, like exploring?"

"Oh."

"Yeesh," Willow said, turning on her heel and walking towards the forest. She then had to turn right back around when she saw that Wendy was not following her, "you comin?"

"I don't want to."

"Well, why not?"

"I don't know who you are."

"Yes, you do! I just told you my name!"

"No, you're a stranger. Strangers are dangerous."

"Don't you keep goin' on about wanting to die or somethin? If I'm all dangerous and stuff, then surely I'm the one you wanna go with."

Wendy considered her for a moment, her head cocked to one side. She spent such a long time considering that Willow wondered if she'd fallen asleep. When she went to rouse her, Wendy jumped away, which in turn caused Willow to jump back.

"See! You're trying to touch me!"

"Jeez girl, I thought you'd fallen asleep!"

"And then you were going to touch me!"

"No that's not- I was going to try and wake you up because the man who owns the body you're in needs food, and so do I," Willow stopped to inhale deeply, then continued, "so unless you wanna starve to death, you need to get up and come with me, alright?"

"What's the point."

Willow tried to get words out, but her voice wouldn't go anywhere. She took a few deep breaths and tried again, "I just told you what the point is, we need food or else we will both starve to death."

"Yeah, but we're going to die anyway, why prolong the inevitable?"

"AAAAAAAAARRGGGGHHH!" Willow yelled, jumping up and down like the ground was covered in hot coals. She then proceeded to stalk off a ways into the forest. Wendy could hear a click, a sudden light, and a deep exhale of breath. Willow returned to her with a burning log clutched in her hands. They sat like that for a while, with willow transfixed by the fire in her hands, and Wendy staring over the top of her knees.

"Only you can prevent forest fires," Wendy said, repeating a foggy memory as she stared at the flame.

"Shut up," Willow replied

By the time Wendy swapped back to Wilson, a pile of ashes had begun to build upon Willow's skirt. Wilson looked at her and got up.

"Did I change?"

Willow did not look up, "yeah. That Wendy's a delight, I tell ya."

"Mmm. Shall we move on? You can bring the log."

Willow nodded and stood up, the ash whipping away and falling between the blades of grass like reverse raindrops. They began to walk into the woods. It was about midafternoon now, and the sun was coming down from midday. Red blotches were already forming on the two of them. Willow only had her nose to worry about, but poor Wilson looked terrible. His beard was shielding his lower face from harm, but his forehead and cheeks were as red as slapped buttocks. His arms, his midriff, even his legs were all sunburnt. The worst of it was around his burns, fire or grass related. Every time he moved, he could feel the pain spike throughout his skin, like a million paper cuts. Willow didn't really feel it until scrunched up her nose. She did that because she had just trodden in a massive cow pat that she had mistaken for solid ground.

"That must be mega buffalo poo! They will be close by," Wilson said, wincing from the pain of moving his face.

"Great, wonderful even," Willow replied, wrenching her foot out of the crap. It was thick, but had an elasticity to it, like stepping in five kilos of rotting bubblegum. When she finally got her foot out, she fell backward with a crash, hitting herself in the face with the log.

"Are you okay?" Wilson asked, rushing over to try and help. Of course, this meant trying to grab the still smoldering log, which burnt his hands.

Willow pushed the log off, revealing her soot-covered face, "I'm fine, don't worry." She clambered to her feet, "also, I was gonna say, but mega buffalo seems like a really dumb name. It's got way too many letters."

"Well, what else could you call them? They are buffalo, and they are extremely large."

"Nah, needs to be all one word. So they're big...hmmm, big, large. Would you say they're buff?"

"Uh...I suppose, they'd need a lot of muscle to move around."

"Buff-buffalo?"

"That is not an improvement."

"Yeah, I don't like it much either. How about...what else means buff?"

"Toned, muscular, beefy..."

"That's it, how about beefalos! Cause they're strong, and they're buffalos, and they taste like beef!"

"How do you know what they taste like?"

"I had some last night. It's really chewy."

"Hmmm, well I suppose. Beefalo it is."

They continued to walk for some time. Willow tried to restart her log, but it was effectively ash at this point, so she tossed it away. There was silence between the two of them, at Wilson's request, so as not to startle anything they might need to catch. Finally, after half an hour, they came upon an enormous clearing. It was here that they found a whole herd of beefalo. Wilson pulled willow behind a bush as they watched.

"My goodness, there must be at least sixty here," Wilson whispered, barely able to contain his excitement, "I wonder how long they've been here!"

"I dunno man. So what's the plan, how're we catching one of these?"

Wilsons face froze for a moment and then dropped, "oh, right. Ummmm. Well, while I remember my plan, how about you tell me what you think we could do."

"Willy, this is the first time I've seen one of these things alive. How'd'ya figure that I'll know what to do?" Willow peeked out of the bushes at one of the bigger ones, who's horns would easily be as long as she was tall, "we don't even have any weapons besides a dinky sleigh, and there's no way either of us is punching one of those things."

"Hmm, maybe another day then," Wilson replied, "though we should take this time to run some experiments."

"Like what?"

"Well, it would be worth knowing if these creatures are territorial."

"Well I can see a few babies in there, so I'm gettin a hunch that they are."

"That is an assumption, and assumptions have no place in science, now out you go," with that, Wilson shoved willow out of the bushes and in front of the whole herd. Almost immediately, the faces of the ten largest beefaloes swiveled around to look at her. Willow stayed as still as she could, "Wilson, what the actual fuck."

"Look, now we know they are safe. Get closer, see if you can get a feel of their mane."

"You do it if you wanna know so badly!" Willow said, much louder than a whisper. The beefalo shifted uneasily, looking at her with glazed eyes.

"I am strictly an observer," Wilson replied.

"Observe this asshole!" She yelled, reaching and yanking Wilson out of the underbrush. The largest beefalo let out a groan and began to run straight at the two of them.

Now, neither of these two could be described as athletic. They were both skinny, sure, but that didn't make them fit. But there is something about being charged by a beast the size of an elephant that puts a bit of energy into a person's muscles. They ran at full pelt into the forest, the beast crashing behind them. Wilson screamed as he ran, harmonizing strangely well with the groaning roar of the beefalo. Willow didn't make a noise, but she was not enjoying this either. The beast tore down trees in an attempt to get at them, throwing splinters into the back of their clothes. It was at this moment that Wilson felt this sharp, wood-based pain that he swapped to Wolfgang. Now Wolfgang did not know what was going on, just that there was a loud noise in him and behind him, and that he was flat out running through a forest. Of course, Wolfgang quite enjoyed running, so he kept on doing that, but something needed to be done about those noises. He twisted his head around, caught sight of the creature that was gaining on them, and his scream became a roar of delight.

He turned to Willow, " **You found bear for Wolfgang to wrestle!** "

Willow looked at him, her eyes not comprehending anything for a moment. Realisation hit her, and her face tightened, "Wolfgang, no..."

" **WOLFGANG YES!** "

With that, Wolfgang turned around and leaped. The beefalo was moving so fast that Wolfgang didn't so much land on it as he was flattened against it. He clung to the fur above its neck as the beast continued to run, laughing through the white hair in his mouth. It slammed into a few more trees, and Willow had to leap to the left to avoid being flattened. Wolfgang became to slam his fist against the creatures tough hide, but he made little headway. The beefalo, to its credit, had stopped and was trying to shake Wolfgang off like an enormous mosquito. Grunts and growls came from beast and man as Wolfgang kicked the creature where the back of its skull met its neck. This had some effect, as the beefalo groaned in pain.  
While the two of them fought, willow set to work doing what she did best: making a fire. Assembling several rocks and a stick, she managed to carve a basic spear. Then, she smeared on some of the beefalo crap from her shoe and set it on fire with the other rocks. It caught instantly, and the smell made her gag. She stood up, one hand on her nose and the other on her spear, and began to advance. The great monster shook itself one final time, bucking forwards and flinging Wolfgang off of itself. He bounced and tumbled along the grass floor until coming to a stop some meters away. For a second, Willow thought he might be dead, then one of his arms shot into the air with all the fervent excitement of a mad person. The beast closed in on Wolfgang, taking its time and completely forgetting about Willow, who jabbed her burning spear deep into the flank of the beast. The beefalo did the closest thing to a scream and jerked itself away from willow. It's body smacked into a tree, and Willow was unable to hold on as the spear snapped, leaving the sharp, burning half embedded in the creature's thigh. It bucked and flailed, sending tremors into the surrounding trees. Willow had to back up to avoid being crushed beneath it, but she needn't have worried. In one moment of carelessness, the creature jumped, got its hoof caught in a thick tree root, and tried to jump again. There was a sickening snap as the beefalos own muscles worked against it, and it collapsed, crippled and in shock, on the floor of the forest. Willow got to her feet, before stumbling over and helping a bruised Wolfgang to his.

" **We eat well tonight,** " Wolfgang said, smiling under his emerging black eye. He gestured at Willow, " **put some meat on Witch bones!** "

"I'm not a... Actually, y'know what, I might be. Willow the witch does have a pretty good ring to it," Willow replied, wrapping an arm under his as they both limped towards the beast, "but how're we gettin it all home?"

"Wolfgang will lift all!" He said, going to flex and then thinking better of it.

They both looked over the beast. It was still alive, and it's blank eyes were wide with shock. It wasn't feeling any of the pain yet, but it would. And that alone might kill it. Its mouth was slackened, and Wolfgang could see the enormous light red mass that was the creatures tongue. Enormous on any beefalo, but downright massive on this titan of a creature. The way it flopped about lazily in the cavern that was its mouth made it look like its own creature. It was as if it were a parasite that had replaced its real tongue long ago. Wolfgang didn't really make that connection though, he was too busy wondering how it might taste. He was thinking that it might taste like calamari, or old sushi, both of which he had never even eaten.  
It was late afternoon, and the sun was just beginning to set. Willow set about gathering some berries, and some firewood, while Wolfgang was to rest off his injuries against the beefalo. At some point, while Willow was getting a proper fire pit ready, the beefalo's breathing gave way to a quick and violent spasm, followed by stillness.

" **Is dead!** " Wolfgang proclaimed, slamming a fist against its thick hide in victory.

"Sweet, that's more food for us," Willow replied, "any chance you know how to serve meat?"

" **Wolfgang can serve knuckle-sandwich, but is acquired taste.** "

"I saw that," Willow said, stirring the fire with her fingers, "why do you like fighting so much?"

" **Wolfgang like fighting normal amount. Once in morning, twice in evening. Is healthy,** " Wolfgang replied, rolling his shoulders, " **when was younger, Wolfgang fight too much. Sometimes thirty fights a day. Too much, mama said, too much for growing boy. But I not listen.** "

"What happened?"

" **Mama say too much fighting pop Wolfgang muscle like balloon! Wolfgang not believe that, so he fight and fight and fight until one day; Wolfgang puny man,** " he gestured to his scrawny body. Then he pulled open his shorts and his face dropped, "oh no, all muscle pop!"

Willow had to fight herself to not laugh as Wolfgang bemoaned his unfilled trousers, "but surely there's a way to get your muscles back? I mean, you're fighting's all healthy now, so your muscles won't pop."

Wolfgang looked up at her, a bit of suspicion crossing his face for the first time maybe ever, " **there is way, but how does Wolfgang know witch girl will not steal them? Witch is even scrawnier than puny man!** "

"Oi, I'm petite, thank you very much. And I like being this way," Willow replied, folding her arms, "all that height you've got is just asking for trouble."

" **Bah, speak for self pipsqueak,** " Wolfgang said, his suspicious gaze easing off. He chuckled, " **Wolfgang know how to make more muscle. This why Wolfgang run and fight, because Wolfgang is biggest. Easy to be biggest when others not trying though.** "

Willow rolled her eyes, "title's yours mate, I don't care."

" **Why not? Is good to be powerful, is good to be big,** " Wolfgang said.

"Nah Nah Nah, I'd much rather be fast, light on my feet," Willow replied, "it's easier to run and hide than to fight."

" **Bah! No one get food by running from prey,** " Wolfgang said, patting his kill.

"What about predators y'can't fight? Your muscles don't help you if y'can't hit what you're fighting."

" **Wolfgang never fought something Wolfgang couldn't beat.** "

"Now that's a load of bullshit, what about birds?"

" **Wolfgang never fought a bird. They not have enough meat.** "

"Alright, how bout a bet?" Willow said, leaning over the fire, "if you can catch and kill the next bird we see with only your fists, I'll let you make me stronger. But if you can't, you have to eat a handful of beefalo poo."

" **You has bet.** " Wolfgang replied, and reached his hand across to shake Willow's.

They shook, and as Wolfgang sat back down, he swapped back to Wilson.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. What did I miss?" he asked, trying not to move. He turned around, took one look at the felled beast and leaped backward, slipping dangerously close to the fire, "Ow! Arrrghh! What the! why is it...wait, is it dead? What did you do?"

Willow sat him back down and explained the situation to him. Wilson, to his credit, didn't say anything until the end, even if he really wanted to.

"So wait, where's my sled?"

"Ah crap, I forgot. We left it at the herd when we ran. But it's going to be too small to carry this thing back home."

"Yeah, I think so. Did you guys eat any of it yet?"

"Also no. I haven't had a knife."

"Rocks do the job pretty well," he said, picking up one such rock and digging into the fur. It disappeared underneath the fluff but made no headway into the actual skin. The hide was too thick and the stone too dull.

"Yeah, I did get the sense that cutting open a freshly dead adult would be a little different to a dead baby."

"Shush you," Wilson said, clawing at the fur in a desperate attempt to get the meat, "didn't you say you killed it with a spear?"

"Again, a little bit different to hitting it with a shit ignited spear as opposed to a dull rock," Willow said with a smile.

"Pass me that stick, it cannot be that hard,"

Willow chucked the stick at him, missing his head and bouncing off the creature. Wilson gave her as reproachful a look as he could before fumbling about in the dirt. He laid out the branch and the rock, looking for some way to hollow one out and stick it in the other. Willow just watched the fire crackle away as he proceeded to over-complicate a problem. Finally, Willow got tired of hearing his dissatisfied grunting and threw a bit of twine at him just as he was mashing the stick and rock together. It landed on the stick, and there was a small flash of green light. Once Wilson had blinked the spots from his eyes, he saw the perfectly made spear now laying in his hands.

"What the fuck?"

"Language!"

"Seriously Willy?"

"Those kind of words are never appropriate!"

"You just fused some stuff into a spear, what kind of response is appropriate to that?"

"You could have said 'well I never', that would have been fine!"

"Yeah no, what did you just do?"

"I have no idea."

They both looked at it for a second, peering it over with curiosity. Wilson wondered if he had accidentally set off a chemical reaction of some sort, maybe fusing these things together. Willow wondered if it was actually going to work as a spear.

"So...you gonna test it?"

"No! Do you have any idea how volatile this could be? No no, I must run some tests to find out what caused this."

Willow then proceeded to roll her eyes, grab the spear out of his hand, and plunge it into the hide of the creature. It sunk all the way down to where she was holding it, slipping in like a blowtorch through snow. She pulled it back out, covered in blood, gore, and loose organ parts. She gave it a bit of a shake and handed it back to Wilson.

"Well, it does what you made it for, so carve me some beef!"

"Buh, wha, fa-" Wilson spluttered, trying to find some words. He didn't, but he kept looking for a few more seconds until he sat back against the beast and began to cut off some hair.

As he sliced, he marveled at the clean cut. Every angle of the rock had been sharpened to flat perfection. It was difficult to see where the blade ended and the air began, but he felt that might be because of the low light. Still, a fine tool, and something he would hold on to, strange chemical happenings or not. By the time he had finished carving out uneven slices of flesh, Wilsons forearms were covered in red. He looked like a butcher, his exposed skin looking like gloves and an apron in the half-light. He offered the pieces to Willow, who looked back at him with a questioning expression.

"I cut, you cook."

She nodded and set to work, immersing the meat in the fire. The blood crackled and popped as the meat burned, filling the air with a salty copper smell, like a sea-side lighthouse that has been plagued with rust. They cooked quickly, tanning brown in a few minutes. Wilson got a few leaves to serve as a plate as he hoed down on his strips. Willow left hers in longer until they were black as ash, before crunching them up between her teeth. It was a quiet dinner, save for the chewing, crunching, smacking and crackling. When they'd finished, Willow peered out into the night, a look of anxiousness on her face.

"I think we should take turns keeping watch," Wilson said.

"Yeah, I'll pay that," Willow replied, gazing out at the darkness, "scissors paper rock?"

They threw their hands out a few times, but willow won with scissors to Wilsons paper, so she turned over and tried to make herself comfortable. Wilson pulled the spear close and fiddled with some chipped wood on the handle as the night waned on. He watched the fire grow dimmer and dimmer, throwing on a stick or two with each hour, and waited.


	18. Day 17

Daybreak is usually rather beautiful here. To me, to Wilson and to Willow, all for different reasons. I like it because it makes it easier to see everything, and watching it chase away the night is very pretty. Wilson likes it because he fell in love with the radiation equations that became commonplace a few years ago to describe the Sun's glow. He had spent many a sleepless night waiting to watch those equations in their purest form. Willow likes it because it's on fire, of course, and what better way to start ones day than with someone that's on fire?

The morning began beautifully enough, until the howling began. Rippling across the landscape, through the very core of one's being. It came on the hour, every hour, and roused both Wilson and willow from sleep at the wee hours.

"What on earth is that?" Willow asked, pushing herself off of the grass. A thin line of drool extended from her mouth to the place she had been sleeping, and snapped as she stood up. One of her pigtails had scrunched up against the ground, and refused to unstick itself. When she turned to look at Wilson through bleary eyes, she saw the same fear she'd seen when they'd met for the first time.

"The hounds..." He said, looking into the trees as if expecting them to rush out and gore him here and now. "I was out in the desert and this thing...I cannot call it a wolf, but that is all I have to describe it. It was the size of a bear, and all mouth. It attacked me, tried to eat me."

"Wait, didn't you kill that thing?"

"No, I lied. I didn't see it coming until it was on me. It got my arms, and I threw my pen into its mouth. It must have gotten caught in its throat, because it spat it back out. But that pen gave me enough time to run. When I got back the next morning, it had left."

"Well, there's two of us now, and we have a spear, and we took down this thing," willow intoned, kicking the beefalo, "I'd say a bear is gonna have a hard time coming for us."

"I suppose so."

There was silence for a moment as the howls faded into the trees and the sun began to rise in earnest, "why lie Willy?"

"I do not know," Wilson lied.

"Well, we need to get this thing out of here before those wolves come."

"Yes, I have been thinking that. But how do we cart something so large such a distance in such a short time? My old sled could handle a baby, there's no way it will hold this thing"

"We could chop it up and make a few trips. Then there would be less strain on us."

"But it would also take far longer. Even with two of us, this could take days. On top of that, other animals might eat this while we leave it unguarded," Wilson said, gesturing at the beefalo.

"I could stay back and scare them away if you made me a spear."

"But then the issue comes from the wolves. It is better for us to stay together until those wicked creatures come. And if I change during my trip, Wendy and Wolfgang are not going to know what has happened."

"Well Willy, I'm fresh out of ideas."

"As am I. We must guard this carcass until the attack."

"So we're sitting here till the wolves come? What even makes you think they'll show up?"

"We are sitting on enough food to feed any carnivore for a month."

"Ah, y'know what, good point," Willow said, sitting down, "still, is it such a good idea to wait for the monsters to come to us?"

"So far as I see it, we have no other choice."

Wilson joined her, and they sat around the embers of the fire for an hour. A giga-fly swished past, dipping and diving in the air current. It was a mottled blue color, with black splotches along its wings. It's long mouth curled beneath it, and it's antenna tuned to some unknown station as it flew. It rested in a small flower, intent to suck out all its nutrients, when a spear jabbed into its thorax. Willow lifted up the spear and peeled the dead bug from the end. It's blood was a greenish-grey.

"What did you do that for?" Wilson asked, more curious than indignant.

"I've always wanted to know what these things taste like," she replied, pulling off an engorged wing and stuffing it in her mouth. She chewed on it, looking for all the world like a goat chewing coloured paper.

"Well?"

"S'not bad!" Willow replied through the giga-fly, a bit of spit shooting out of her mouth and landing on Wilson's face.

"Thanks for that," he replied, wiping saliva from his cheek, "what does it taste of?"

"S'kinda... You know pumpkin pie?"

"Yes, I have had that before."

"Yeah, s'nothin like that," willow said, swallowing and letting out a stammering belch.

"That is disgusting," Wilson said, snatching the other wing for himself.

Had Wilson ever had a musk stick in his life, he might've equated the taste of these giga-flys wings to that. However, he had not, and could not wrap his head around the sweet, slightly chalky textures of the wing. It was tasty, no doubt, but a strange kind of tasty. A faint hint of blueberries hid behind the sweetness, but Wilson didn't taste that. On his third or fourth try of these wings he would find the blueberries, but right now its initial taste was too unique to get past. Even more unique was how filling it was. For something thin enough to provide flight, it had a caloric density unmatched by a lot of other foods. Wilson didn't notice it, but the wings also provided an increase in disease control. The infection that had been steadily creeping into the cut in his foot halted and withered over the next few days, leaving wilson unaware of its existence. Needless to say, they had stumbled upon a strange and powerful source of food.  
They continued to gorge themselves for a while, spearing the giga-flys that fluttered by. Willow's aim wasn't great, and she missed more of them than she caught, but that was still enough to keep them both fed. On his fifth taste of giga-fly, Wilson switched personality.

"WHERE AM I?" His body asked, his voice becoming loud and without nuance. He spat out the giga-fly wing he had been chewing as he spoke.

"Uh...I don't reckon you ever gave this place a name Willy,"

"ANSWER DOES NOT FIT QUESTION PARAMETERS. WHERE AM I?"

"Imma say..." Willow started, fishing for a name. She looked over the area, and saw only feces, giga-flys and a campfire, "this is Shitbug Camp."

"CATALOGING. SHITBUG CAMP ADDED TO DATABASE."

"Alright, I answered one'a your questions, now lemme ask, who the hell are you?"

"I AM WX-78, THE FIRSTBORN HUMANOID AUTOMATON, CREATED BY DOCTOR WILSON JEROE," WX-78 intoned, sounding like someone reading off the worlds most boring string of numbers.

"Wait, Wilson? Wilson created you?"

"THAT IS CORRECT, WERE YOU NOT LISTENING?"

"No, I just... Wanted to confirm. Alright W-ex...whatever your numbers were, what's your deal? You said you were an automata-somethin, what's that all about?"

"MY NAME IS WX-78 AND MY PURPOSE IS TO SIMULATE LIFE, DESPITE ITS CLEAR POINTLESSNESS" he replied, maintaining unblinking eye contact.

"Okay, that's...unsettling. Well, you and I are gonna keep an eye out for some wolves. Gotta make sure they don't eat us," willow explained as another howl rose out of the tree canopy.

"SEARCHING FILES...WOLVES: CARNIVOROUS BUT FRIENDLY BEAST KNOWN FOR THEIR AFFECTION TOWARDS HUMANS AND EASE OF TRAINING," WX-78 replied, "THIS WOLF IS HOSTILE, AND MUST BE INFECTED WITH DISEASE NAME: RABIES."

"Yeah that sounds about right. If Willy sent you, you probably know your stuff, though I see his influence in the emotional department," willow replied.

"EMOTION: ANTITHESIS TO LOGIC. WHO IS 'WILLY'?"

"Oh, you don't know that one? Willy is Wilson's other name," willow replied. She flashed WX-78 a grin, "see also: dickbutt."

"CATALOGING. CATALOG COMPLETE. ARE YOU A FRIEND OF DOCTOR DICKBUTT?"

It was all willow could do to not burst out laughing. The effort of holding it in brought tears to her eyes. When willow had caught her breath, she replied, "yeah, I suppose we're friends."

"UNDERSTOOD. YOU APPEAR TO BE LEAKING, DO YOU NEED MEDICAL ASSISTANCE?"

"No, no, this is normal for me."

And so they sat and waited. The day seemed to crawl on now, and the two of them did not exchange a word for the rest of the day. Due to his wounds, Wilson, or WX-78, ended up passing out. Willow didn't really have the heart to wake him.  
It was in this time that she wondered. This clan would be known for their wonderment. The family of beings born from Wilson's mind needed always to occupy themselves somehow, else they would lapse into daydreams. Daydreams fueled with curiosity at their static surroundings and turbulent lives. Today, willow wondered of Wilson and of dreams. Were his dreams his own when he slept? or would others sleep in his skin, dreaming in his stead while he lay In the background? Had she ever swapped with him in the middle of the night or vice versa, making for a completely different dream? Or did they all dream as one, creating a magical mess on the beaten canvas of Wilson's mind? I could tell her the answer, but that may ruin the fun that comes from such wonderings. In ones mind, the entertaining of an idea can be more fulfilling than the solving of it. In reality, willow could only tell that Wilson, or WX-78, or the Wilson conglomerate at large, dreamt of nothing and had a tiring sleep.  
It was late dusk when Wilson awoke, the sound of baying wolves ever closer by the hour. Wilson jolted to his senses, scaring the tar out of willow, who'd been absorbed in the firelight.

"Jesus Willy, don't do that, you'll give me a heart attack."

"Ah, yes, sorry about that. I take it the wolves have not attacked?"

"You are indubitably correct my good man," willow mocked, putting on a pompous British accent. She turned and dumped out a small bundle of items, "before we're mauled to death, I figured we should probably see if you can do that spear thing again. It's not much use one of us having a spear anyway if the other has to cower behind them."

"Very well," Wilson replied. He seized a sharper rock, a longer branch, and the only stretch of twine willow had gathered. He tried to jam them all together in the same way he had done before, and was met with the same flash of green. The spear on his lap was identical to the first, except for the blood and giga-fly guts that now covered it. This confused Wilson a little bit, "if I am not mistaken, that branch was longer than this spear is now. Where did all the extra mass go?"

"Well where does stuff go when you burn it?"

"It becomes ash and smoke. There are byproducts, things cannot simply disappear."

"Well why not?"

"Because that violates the first law of thermodynamics, which is a fundamental building block of physics."

"Yeah, so?"

"If that law is untrue in this world, then that means... That means... I do not even know what the implications of that would be. Suffice to say the world we are in should not act so similarly to our own if that were the case."

"Well, shit ain't fallin down around us, so I'd say we're good. Just means you got a cool power, nothin more to it. I wouldn't look that gift horse too hard in the mouth if I were you," willow said, pointing a finger at him. She grabbed the unbloodied spear from his hands and began to fiddle with it as she had the other.

Wilson looked down at his hands, and at the bloody spear lying in his fingers. It was then he decided that no, he would look this gift horse in the mouth. He would look so deeply that he would crawl into its stomach and out its asshole to wherever the gift horse came from. There had to be a reason that a man, intelligent as he was, should be able to completely break one of the most fundamental laws of the universe without even meaning to.  
But first, the matter at hand. The howls were getting closer and the sun was going down. Willow threw more logs on the fire until the axe on Wilson's back was dull and useless. Finally, for two blissful hours, the howling stopped. But then came the growls. Deep grunts, far throatier than any normal wolf could muster, far more gravelly than the most cobbled of roads. These were not the sounds of animals, but monsters, and they reverberated through the duo's entire bodies.  
Willow wanted to talk, to say something, but she feared she might never be heard. Wilson said nothing, and wanted to say less. He wanted to curl up and hope they would kill willow and leave him be. When he was just about to get on his knees, the wolves attacked. They leaped out of the darkness, and into the fire light, throwing their features into garish view.  
They were very similar, with eyes the putrid yellow of mouldy honey, upturned snouts like that of a pig, and tiny stumps of feet supporting a body almost entirely comprised of a snarling, drool filled mouth. They would've both been able to look Wilson in the eye, even if he stood as tall as he was able. And the smell, dear god the smell. They smelt of boiled flesh and wet leather, as if an abattoir imploded and became a dog monster.  
Willow levelled her spear at the closest one to her, and Wilson pissed himself. Dignified, isn't he?

Willow and her wolf clashed, leaping at each other in the same instant. They locked, spear to teeth, and began to try to push. Neither of them gave any ground as they snarled at one another. Willow stared down the wolf and told it, "have a go if you think you're hard enough you c***."

Meanwhile, Wilson was not having as much luck. The wolf lunged for him, and he screamed, trying to push himself out of the way. He had no luck, and the wolf gored him with a gnarled tooth. It only grazed his shoulders, but the wound was bloody. Out of reflex, Wilson jabbed the spear he was still holding at the wolf and missed, shaving some fur off of its stumpy leg. He scrambled backwards, dropping his spear as he shimmied away. The beast wasted no time and leapt on him again, trying to bite him. But it's mouth opened too wide, and it couldn't angle its head down to gnaw him. He felt the humid breath of the monster against his chest as he stared right into its throat, smelling the thousands of victims of this things jaws. It was at this point that Wilson was so full of adrenaline that he was on the verge of a panic attack. His hands began to shake, and his heart was beating so fast he thought it would tunnel through his rib cage. But before the adrenaline could seize his limbs completely, he gave the wolf as hard a shove as he could. All his adrenaline, all his panicked efforts, every fiber of his being poured into his thin white arms. His hands caught the monster beneath its ugly hanging jaw, slamming it shut for the first time since the creatures had arrived. Unfortunately for the hound, these beasts were not built to close their mouths completely. Wilson heard a snapping noise as the tendons that held the jaw together bent too far in the wrong direction. Blood mixed into the wolf's saliva, causing a great ball of foam to emerge from its broken jaw.  
It tried to swallow, but the foam was too thick. It could only make a noise that sound like a branch getting stuck in a lawnmower. But even with blood spilling from the hinges of its mouth, this thing would not stop. It's eyes, now bloodshot and pained, stared at Wilson. Unable to use its mouth, it resorted to clawing Wilson, raking his chest with its small, but still deadly claws. It cut his chest, again and again. Wilson tried to roll away, but he was so exhausted now he could barely move himself. His scrambling only rolled onto his back, giving the wolf a new area to dig through. Wilson screamed as the cold little knives ran across the back of his rib cage, his pelvis, his spine. Tears streamed from his eyes as he reached a hand out, wanting to get away.  
Wilson felt a sudden weight. This is it, was all his terrified mind could think, this is it. He used the last of his energy to curl up into a ball and slip into blackness.

* * *

"What happened?"

Willow looked over from the outskirts of the clearing, "oh hey, good to see you too."

Wilson tried to stand up, but only received a sharp stabbing pain for his troubles. He lay back down and exhaled. He was laying on the ground, with his poncho spread over his chest like a blanket. The fire still burned, but it was getting low. The trees were too thick over head to tell how much time had passed, but it was obviously still night. Or perhaps early morning.

"You got knocked out. From what I can tell, you've lost a fuc- a lot of blood," willow explained, catching herself. Wilson nodded a feeble thank you and she continued, "I killed the first wolf. I put the spear through the back of its throat. Then I killed the wolf that attacked you. I wanted to eat'em too, really fu- screw with nature. But I think they gave me a bug or something."

Wilson looked around the camp. The two wolf carcasses lay a few feet away, with a puddle of Willow's vomit sitting next to them. Their teeth glinted in the fire light, as if they were tiny light houses atop a black furry sea. Wilson looked back to Willow, and her eyes met his. Her face was flecked with purple blood and red, and she looked scared. Her hands were shaking and she didn't seem to blink. She tried a smile.

"You've got some lungs on you, y'know? My ears're still ringing from that scream of yours."

Wilson stared at her, and her smile faded. She turned back to her work.

"What are you doing?"

"I wanted to get s'more firewood. Spears don't do well with trees, so I'm makin an axe," she said, pulling a bit of twine.

"Pass it here."

"You're in no state to build an axe mate, get some rest."

"I am fine, give me the pieces."

"Willow. Let me help."

"S'that what you call it?"

"Willow..."

"Don't you willow me buddy. You did nothing. You've done nothing. No matter what state you're in, you're a hassle. I have to make fire for you, cook for you, put up with you, fight for you, kill for you, save you from yourself. And you think now you can help. As if now, lying on the ground from wounds you might die from, you think you can help," Willow was standing now, a rock and a stick in either hand and clutching them until her fingers turned white. "You think you're in control, dontcha? Well you're not, and it's time you got that through that smart fucking brain of yours! You ain't in control, and you never have been! You ain't a leader, or a survivor, you're a coward with a high IQ!"

Willow looked at Wilson. The tears in her eyes didn't hide him well enough. A sickly little man, looking smaller than a child in his cloth. His hair had drooped down, his skin was alive with the red and blue of veins, and the shape of his skull clear underneath his waxen flesh. His eyes stared out from hollow sockets, and willow couldn't meet them. Couldn't look at those little orbs that she knew couldn't be any more different from her own.  
Willow turned away from him, walked back and sat down again. She heard the rustling of his blanket, the muted groans, the shuffling of feet, but she didn't turn around. A skeletal hand reached over her shoulder, and touched the rock. Willow didn't move, just watched with drying eyes as the green light enveloped the tools. This wasn't instant, not like the spear. It was slow, and she could see what was happening. His hand curled into a claw as the fingers strained to push out the energy. His veins bathed in the green glow, making it look necrotic, like the hand of a corpse. The stone and stick sparked, letting out tiny bursts of yellow that were swallowed by the green as it curled around her hands. In a moment of panic thinking that she might fuse to it, willow yanked her hands out of the energy, but the items did not fall. They hung in the lights, suspended in mid-air. Then, it was over. The green dissipated into the ether, leaving only the darkness and firelight. An axe dropped into Willow's hands, fully formed. It wasn't as sharp as the spear had been, nor as long, but it was dense. Willow moved it around in her hands, getting a feel for its top heaviness. The hand retreated. Willow said nothing, and began to move towards a nearby tree.


	19. Day 18

Wolfgang woke up to the sound of birdsong. It was midday, and every part of his body stung. He tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs scraped against a broken rib, bringing a whole new bout of aches. He looked around the clearing for Willow, but did not find her. Seeing the two new carcasses, Wolfgang wondered if she might have turned into a monster. Witches could do that, he knew. Or was that vampires?

"Witch girl! Is you giant stinky mound?" Wolfgang called. His voice, even yelling, was not above a whisper. He tried to make it louder but only gave himself a headache. Against what Wilson would call common sense, Wolfgang threw the blanket off himself to assess the damages. Three enormous cuts were strung out along his bare chest, still red and fresh looking. The cool breeze became a biting cold that gnawed at his injuries. This was the most pain that Wilson had been through in his life, but that did not stop Wolfgang climbing to his feet and waddling over to the dead wolves.

The full extent of the injuries to Wilson's body would only come to light under very powerful technology. Between sunburn, grass burn, regular burns, cuts, bruised bones, broken ribs, internal and external bleeding, and an unpleasant looking infection, Wilson appeared to be a dead man walking. And yet, he refused to die. Now don't get me wrong, I don't want him dead. His personalities are the most interesting part of this world, to lose that would be very boring. but it's surprising that he is this tenacious for a skinny British nerd who's afraid of his own emotions.

Wolfgang hobbled over to the wolves and did not find Willow. Willow was off on her own, about half a kilometer from Wolfgang. She had become bored with watching Wilson sleep, and there had been no further howling, so she'd decided to explore. After all, what good is one's body if it isn't used to explore the world around us?

The first thing of note that she came across was, of course, the beefalo herd. They had moved further north since yesterday, but Willow didn't know that. Willow gave the beefalo as wide a berth as she could, keeping an eye out and an ear to the ground. Once she had passed them, she came upon a strange tree. It was surrounded by some of the ugliest flowers Willow had ever seen, and the other, more normal trees seemed to grow in a perfect circle away from it. Even at a distance, Willow could see that this tree sported a face. Not a crude face carved into the wood, but true features, like that of a human or a demon. Its mouth was a hole that took up a third of the tree, with jagged edges that served as crooked 'teeth'. Willow peered down the throat, but she could not see anything, only a void behind the maw. Two eyes sat above the open mouth, closed off to the world. If willow had gotten closer, she might've remarked how human this trees eyelids were. She might even have noticed how they fluttered slightly, as if the tree were in a restless sleep. The tree bore no leaves and no fruit, and would look like a statue if not for its gentle swaying. To her credit, Willow did try to approach the tree, but getting near the flowers caused her to feel strange. At first, she felt as if something was amiss. As if there was some assailant out of the corner of her eye. She took another step forward, and the feeling worsened. Another step, and her neck and arms started to cramp. She retreated from the tree while she still could. She felt the effects of the flowers ebb away, but not even close to fast enough. She lit a fire once she got to a safe distance, which helped get rid of the rest of the effects.

Willow kept moving, wanting to put some distance between her and the ugly tree. From there, it was not long until she reached the place that she now resided as Wolfgang woke. A meadow, lush with grass so green it seemed painted on. Rolling hillocks broke up the flat landscape like frozen waves of some lime colored sea. Willow walked with caution, painfully aware of how dangerous everything in this world had been up till now. But there was nothing out here to hurt her, save for a nasty looking beehive a few meters to her right. So she was content to wander, riding the hills, eating a few sweet potatoes, and washing her feet into a shallow stream. The midday sun hung high in the air, illuminating the doughy white clouds that filled the sky. It bathed the world with enough solar energy to give every man, woman and child a tan. Willow wondered if she might ever leave this place.

* * *

Back at the beast, Wolfgang had decided to try and stay awake. After all, the little witch girl couldn't be far off. He had wanted to go looking for her, but his vision seemed to blur with every step. Wolfgang was not used to sitting still, unless he was asleep. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time that he had been so exhausted. His limbs ached, his joints stung, his skin burned, his tongue tasted of chalk and steel, and he could not lift his hands above his shoulders without sending searing pain rippling across his body.

As Wolfgang was considering trying to punch the exhaustion out, the sound of rustling came from the undergrowth behind him. He tried to turn to face whatever it was, but found his body unwilling to co-operate.

" **Witch girl, is you?** " He asked, his voice weak with exhaustion. The rustling stopped, and there was silence for a long moment. Long enough for Wolfgang to know that whatever that was, it wasn't Willow.

After another minute, Wolfgang began to slouch. He let his head loll to one side, and he set a steady rhythm for his breathing. To anyone behind him, Wolfgang appeared to be fast asleep. It worked like a charm. The rustling began again, moving out of the brush and onto the soft grass. It was slow, but it was coming towards Wolfgang. When he thought it was close enough, Wolfgang swayed and allowed himself to topple backwards off the fallen log. He let out a pained grunt as he hit the ground and opened his eyes to stare up at the mystery intruder.

It was a beast, close to six and a half feet tall, with pink, spotted skin, hairy forearms, and a snout nose. Crooked, ugly teeth lay beneath beady green eyes, which themselves sat under a forehead like a rocky overhang.

" **Is pig...** " Wolfgang said in disbelief.

The pig, who was close enough for Wolfgang to stare straight up its grass skirt, began to shriek. Loud, shrill noises bleated from its face as it bolted back into the undergrowth, moving far faster than something that top-heavy had a right to. Wolfgang watched it go with a stunned disbelief.

Willow returned two hours later to find Wolfgang chewing some tree bark.

* * *

" **Ah! Hello witch girl!** "

"Hey Wolfgang," willow replied, flopping herself down on a log and starting up a fire, "what're you eating?"

" **Is tree-skin, make Wolfgang tough, like tree.** "

"No shit? Is it working?"

" **Wolfgang have no idea.** "

Willow cracked a smile. It had been a long day, and she was feeling exhausted. All this walking and fighting was going to get her killed. Still, it was better than doing nothing. On her trip, she had found some more Giga-flys, and a few purple apples that seemed edible enough. It had been a risk to grab them, but they were too sweet to leave on that bee infested tree. She shifted herself, feeling where the stingers had cut her bottom and back. No need to mention that embarrassing little escapade to Wolfgang. She began to roast the apples over the fire as the two of them continued to talk.

" **...and that is why never trust monkey butler,** " Wolfgang finished his story took a bite out of the now cooked Apple.

"Fuck me, that's amazing. I never thoughtcha for the mansion type."

" **Is true, Amadeaus family very rich back in day,** " Wolfgang replied as purple juice dribbled down his bare chest. There was a silence between them as they set about eating the rest of the apples, save the crunches and burps. When he finished, Wolfgang donned a contemplative look.

"Woah, you alright there mate?" Willow asked.

" **No, is fine, just...thinking,** " Wolfgang said, brow furrowing.

"Heheh, well don't strain yerself too hard!" Willow replied, grinning through purple teeth. Wolfgang didn't react, and her smile fell, "what's up mate?"

" **Wolfgang saw thing, early today. Is like pig, but also like man,** " Wolfgang explained, staring into the fire with a strange concentration.

"Soooo, a pigman? I mean, that's pretty cool, but whys it got you all rattled?"

" **Is... Is looking like my papa,** " Wolfgang said, his eyes not moving from the fire.

There was silence for a very long time. Willow wondered if Wolfgang had gone mad. Maybe his injuries were getting to him, making him see things. No way was she going to call him crazy, but neither Wilson or Wendy had been out at all today, as far as she knew. She didn't know if that meant anything, but time would tell.

"Wolfgang, I don't reckon it was your friend. Why would they be out here, in the middle of nowhere, and a pig?"

" **Is not friend, is papa,** " Wolfgang raised his eyebrows a bit.

"The hell is a papa? Issat like a pet or somethin?"

" **No, is like... Im- Impor- good good more than friend is look like pig thing, and Wolfgang not know why,** " Wolfgang said, hanging his head.

"Maybe it's a trick, a shapeshifter of somethin. There isn't anyone here but us," Willow replied, not believing that, "but if it makes you feel better, we can look for it tomorrow."

" **Wolfgang like that.** "

As he sat there, nodding along with the idea, Wolfgang swapped out.

"HELLO."

"Oh hey...um, what was your name again?"

"I AM DESIGNATED WX-78."

"Right, right. Y'know, we ought to give you a nickname," willow said, looking him up and down, "cause WX-78 is such a mouthful."

"A MOUTH FULL OF WHAT?"

"No no, not a literal mouth full. It's like... Your name is too... Your name feels weird to say. It's like it's not a name sa-much as a bar-code."

"I AM DESIGNATED AS WX-78, THAT IS NOT WEIRD."

"Uh-huh. What does that name even mean? Is it code for something?"

"I AM WILSON-BOT X-MODEL VERSION 7.8, MY DESIGNATION IS WX-78."

"Wow, what a cocksure bastard," willow muttered. Then, at her normal volume, "Well then wouldn't you be WBXMV-7.8?"

"I SAID THAT AS WELL, BUT DOCTOR DICKBUTT WAS INSISTENT."

"Bah, what does he know."

"HE KNOWS HOW TO GIVE A MACHINE SENTIENCE."

"Yeah but besides that," willow replied, "listen, it's a new world, and you deserve a better name. I can't call you Willy-bot, as funny as that'd be. How about...Wex?"

"YOU WOULD DESIGNATE ME AS 'WEX'?"

"Yeah, I reckon it suits ya."

"VERY WELL NAMER OF THINGS, I WILL BE DESIGNATED WEX, FORMERLY WX-78," Wex replied, an inkling of pride creeping into his monotone voice, "WHAT IS YOUR DESIGNATION?"

"Well, Namer Of Things has a pretty nice ring to it, but I'm kinda racking up the titles at the mo'," willow said, offering a slight smile, "Call me Willow."

"SEARCHING: WILLOW. A LARGE TREE PRIMARILY FOUND IN COLD OR TEMPERATE ENVIRONMENTS. IT IS EASILY DISTINGUISHED BY ITS LARGE, DROOPING FOLIAGE. ARE YOU A TREE?"

"Jeez, at this point, I might be. Though I don't know about the drooping part. Or the cold part," willow shivered, and pulled another log onto the fire. It sputtered, sending up a shower of sparks, but it didn't go out.

"RESULTS: INCONCLUSIVE," Wex replied. He looked around and clutched his stomach, "MY INTERNAL SYSTEMS APPEAR TO BE FAILING. IT APPEARS I AM UNDER THE EFFECTS OF OIL LEAKAGE."

"Is that robot speak for needin ta take a piss? Cause there's some bushes over there..."

"INCORRECT. AUTOMATONS DO NOT "piss". I REQUIRE MORE OIL AND ASSISTANCE IN LOCATING AND PLUGGING THE LEAK."

"Well, we've got no oil, cause I'd'a used it already, but I don't reckon you need it," Willow looked around the camp. The sun was starting to fade, bathing the world in an orange glow. She spotted what she was looking for in seconds, and drive a spear down on the giga-fly, "Here, eat this, it'll make you feel better."

Wex looked from the dead insect, to her, then back at the insect, "EAT?"

"Oh seriously? How do you not know what eating is?"

"I AM AWARE OF THE CONCEPT OF CONSUMPTION, BUT ANDROIDS HAVE NO STOMACHS."

"Dude, I don't know what weird bot ya used ta be, but right now, you're in a human body. I don't see any oil comin' out of you, so there's an 80% chance you're hungry."

"AND WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER TWENTY PERCENT?"

"Well, there's also the chance you're still bleeding out, but food'll help with that either way."

Wex looked from the dead animal to willow over and over, agonizing over her proposal. Finally, he pushed the giga-fly into his mouth, whole, and began to choke on it.

"No, no!" Willow jumped behind him, hazily remembering something about high-lick. She wrapped her hands around his stomach and pulled. It was a strange angle, as Wex was still sitting, but it did its job. The giga-fly hit the ground with a wet splat, "Dammit man, you've gotta chew first!"

Wex didn't reply. His face was red, and sweat covered his skin. He did nothing for a long time except take deep, rasping breaths. When he was finally back to form, he spoke, "HOW...HOW DO YOU EXIST LIKE THIS?"

"Aw man, don't start this. This is bein' human, and you and I are gonna be doin' a lot of it," Willow replied, kicking the spit-flecked giga-fly away, "I'll find you something easier to start off."

After a few minutes of searching, willow found some wild carrot. She did a slap job of cooking it, before laying it out and using the edge of the clean spear to slice it into pieces. She handed a cut to Wex.

"Alright, watch me," willow said, popping a slice into her own mouth. She chewed slowly, mouth open, giving Wex a full show of exactly what he had to do. She remembered all those times she'd been smacked for chewing this way, and her ears seemed to ring again. Her lips closed for the last few chews, before she finally swallowed, "Now you try."

To his credit, Wex was a quick learner. He chewed loudly, and spittle got everywhere, but the food seemed to stay in his mouth. His jaw seemed to move from one side to the other, not so much chewing as grinding the food. It was slow, but effective enough. Willow watched in a kind of morbid fascination, and found herself wondering if she'd have to teach him how to drink. Something for another time, she hoped. When he had finished, it took him a few goes to figure out how to swallow, but he did get there in the end.

"CONSUMPTION INEFFICIENT, OIL LEAKAGE HAS NOT STOPPED."

"Yeah, it takes a coupla minutes for your belly to catch up. If you're still hungry, you can have some more carrot, but try'n keep your lips closed next time."

Wex gave her a sideways glance, about the most emotional response he'd given her yet, but he continued to eat the carrots. Willow stoked and tended to the fire, and Wex started to get better and better at eating. He seemed to grow quicker with each slice. He even got quieter, so that by the last slice she could barely hear him chew.

Night came, as did sleep for the both of them.


	20. Day 19

Willow awoke the next day, her head resting in the smoldering fire pile she'd used as a pillow the night before. Her jet black hair had become even darker with the soot, and she shook splinters from her face as she sat up.

Wilson was still asleep, his mouth hanging open and snores echoing from within. A string of drool dangled from his lips, bobbing above the grass. Willow let him be and wandered to the stream over the way. Taking off her clothes and tossing them into a heap, she began to wade into the shallow waters. It was cold, almost to freezing, but the warmth of the fading fire had done a lot to keep her skin warm. As she lay in the pool, she took stock of recent events. Her worldly "birth", the capturing of the beefalo, the fight with the hounds, her row with Wilson, teaching Wex how to eat. Her entering this world sprung to mind, unbidden. She hadn't thought about how she'd gotten here. She knew she'd existed before, and she knew she existed now, but the point that should've connected those two didn't seem to exist. She tried to remember what had happened before she'd popped into Wilson's head, but there was nothing. Not even the flicker of a long forgotten memory. Just an inky blackness where some of her should be.

Meanwhile, back at Shitbug camp, Wendy woke up. She took a look around herself, and saw no-one. She saw spears on the ground, a lump of ash, and a monster. Upon spotting the husk of the beefalo, she leapt backwards, letting out a small shriek. However, that shriek caught in her throat when she realised how much pain her body was in. She sunk to the floor, tears streaming from her eyes as her legs, arms, back and head burned. She tried to breathe, but every time she inhaled, her broken rib would catch on her lung and sing with pain. Her fingers curled into stiffened hooks from the pain, whilst cramps coursed across her back and thighs as her whole body contracted. After an hour of pain, tears, and being curled up on the floor, Willow returned. She was still soaking wet, carrying her clothes in one hand and some kindling in the other, with the plan to light herself on fire instead of making a towel. She caught sight of Wendy and dropped what she was holding.

"Jeez Willy, what happened?"

"H-H-hurts..." Wendy choked out, a dribble of blood running down her cheek and mixing in with her tears.

"Ah fuck, Wendy?" Willow looked around, trying to find anything that might be able to help, "Okay hon, hang on," with that, Willow picked up a spear and looked for some Giga-flys. She found three and brought them back, "here, eat these. It'll make ya feel better."

Wendy, to her credit, did her best to eat them. The tears, blood and snot seem to drench anything she tried to eat, but she soldiered on. Maybe she wasn't noticing the taste. She had other things to worry about after all. Willow looked on, feeling very ill as she watched the half naked body of Wilson leak from every part of his face. When Wendy had finished, she looked at Willow, still crying like a newborn, "it's not stopping."

"I know. Y'had a pretty nasty scrape. Well, you didn't, yer other..."selves" did. Our brother's got us into a right mess," Willow explained, offering a hand, "c'mon, that grounds not too comfy."

Wendy got to her feet, wincing in pain and falling many times, but eventually standing up. She and Willow walked back to the patch of soft grass that Wilson had been using to sleep. Willow tucked her in with the poncho, which looked rattier every day. Wendy shivered in a breeze, and winced again, sounding like a mouse squeaking in pain. Willow surveyed the area again, and landed on the beefalo.

"Well, it ain't like we're usin' it f'much," Willow remarked to herself. She picked up a spear and set to work, peeling off two long strips of fur. She made long strokes, taking out sheets of skin from the beast so massive that it would wrap Willow up twice over. Despite the skin being far thicker than the poncho, it came away easily under the edge of the spear. Underneath, she found the still red looking meat, looking fresh despite it being dead for days now. Even after cutting the sheets of skin away from its body, the beast still had plenty to spare.

Wilson's poncho, while doing its job, had rounded out to be a soggy, disgusting thing. He'd cut it poorly, and chunks of rotting meat clung to it still. Willow was no more of an expert, but she did scrape off the excess meat, leaving only the skin and fur. She threw it over herself then and there, but found it to still be cold and unpleasant. The still fresh blood dripped against her already wet back. Wendy watched as Willow scanned the camp yet again, and began to grab the biggest sticks she could find.

"Wha-what are you doing?" Wendy asked, her voice shaking with the effort.

"I'm makin' us some blankets!" Willow replied as she drove a stick into the ground near the campfire, "whassit look like I'm doin?"

"B-but what are the st-sticks for?"

"Ah! So, I'm gonna try and dry em off using the fire, but I don't wanna throw em into it, cause I reckon they'll burn. And as nice s'that'd look, we kinda need em," Willow replied, driving another stick into the ground.

When she had set up all the sticks, they formed a rough square around the ashes of the old fire. Willow spent a few minutes rekindling until it was roaring merrily. Then she draped the blanket over the sticks, where it immediately slipped and fell onto the fire. Willow yanked it back, but the long, dry fur had already caught.

"Ah shit, ah shit, ah shit," Willow said, watching the fire start to spread with fascination.

"S-Stamp on it!" Wendy called, trying to yell, but only getting a coughing fit and a bit of blood for her troubles.

"But...it's so...god, do you smell that?" Willow asked. She got on her hands and knees, shoving her face into the flame and inhaling deeply, "oooooooohh..."

Willow began to rub her face against it, rolling the thick hair strands under her chin, feeling the fire lick her eyelids, the heat invade he throat. She breathed in again, and her eyelids fluttered in the fire. The smell of smoke, of fire, of burning. It ravaged her nostrils. The rest of her body rolled around on the ground, stretching and contorting with the tongues of flame. They spread down the carpet, and she pressed herself into the fire, feeling the hands of warmth boil her stomach, her legs, her arms, her skin. The light of the dancing flame was all she could see, the light given down to her as a gift. No, a right. She writhed in the flame and screamed, but there was no pain.

And then it was out. The fire ran its course, leaving Willow laying in a charred pile of ash. Her skin had been blackened with soot, with only her milky white eyes were recognisable amid the tangled mess. Wendy had her face in her hands, muttering something Willow couldn't hear. Willow sat up, feeling the still standing hairs crumble to ash beneath her weight. She got to her feet, and felt a cool breeze whistle through her hair. A cloud of dust drifted off of her, making it appear as if she too was disintegrating. She moved, very slowly, towards the other hide and picked it up. Feeling the weight in her hands, she held it up to her nose and inhaled once more. The smell was no less overwhelming, but the edge wasn't there. She threw the fur down and gagged, dry retching at the smell of this unburnt skin. After a minute of keeping her food down, she turned to Wendy, who had done her best to huddle beneath the poncho. She approached and heard only whimpers. Whimpers and tears. Willow's fists balled up. She wasn't scary. Why was Wendy trying to hide. She hadn't done anything. Wendy was overreacting. Wendy was a child. Wendy didn't understand how it felt. Now Willow wanted to cry. It wasn't her fault! Wendy didn't know anything! Wendy was just a little girl! How dare she be scared of Willow! How dare she hide from Willow!

Willow bathed in the stream for a long time. Even after all the soot had fallen away and her skin was starting to wrinkle. She didn't spend her time thinking. At least, not anything new. It was all emotion. They swirled around her head like a fireworks display in a tumble dryer.

Wendy stayed under that poncho for the rest of the day, or at least until Wilson took the reigns. He had the good sense to not jump around when he got control back, but that didn't mean the blood on his chin and tears on his cheeks didn't surprise him. He unfurled the poncho, surveying the scene that was their camp. The fire was still crackling away, but the real draw were the sticks. Had Willow been making a tent? He looked down, spotting the stretch of beefalo wool, which he took to be a yes. But why build the tent over a fire? Inevitably, his gaze landed on the charred husk. Of all the people with a sense of fire safety, surely Willow would've known what she was doing. Maybe she'd tried to build a spit for roasting meat, but gotten fed up? Had she been trying to cook the meat in a sort of hammock of fur? But then where was the meat? Had they already eaten it all? Wilson felt a pang of hunger shoot through his chest, answering his question.

"Willow? Are you there?" Wilson tried to call out, but he could not persuade his lungs to go above a hoarse whisper. He tried again, and a third time, but to no avail. On his fourth attempt, he heard a faint shuffling noise from a bush behind him, "Willow?"

The rustling noise froze, as it had for Wolfgang. Wilson chose now to be the time to find his voice, "Raaaar! I am a demon creature! You should not come closer, this weak form is only a trap!"

The rustling didn't fire up for a few minutes, and Wilson wondered if his bluff had worked. Only moments later did he hear the shuffling of grass.

"Did you not hear me foolish one? I am a demon of the highest order!" Wilson tried to sound confident and failed in incredible fashion. His voice shook like his hands, and it sounded so high pitched that you could've mistaken him for a very sick twelve year old.

The beast didn't stop this time, and Wilson curled up as he heard the footsteps continue to approach. His eyes shut, his body shook, and he held his breath, as if it would help. The footsteps were upon him now. The creature would no doubt be ready to tear him apart and eat him. It would only be finishing what this world had tried to do since day one. Oh the humanity of it all. He began to think of his wife, and how he hadn't even said goodbye. He braced himself for the grasp of the creature, knowing he'd never be able to fight back.

He still heard the footsteps, but they were growing...distant? Wilson pulled down the poncho, his eyes flickering open. Now he saw the beast, as Wolfgang had. A great pig-like creature, enormous snout, hunched back, thick pink skin, floppy triangular ears, the works. It was currently ripping chunks from the beefalo and shoving them into its mouth. Flecks of saliva and blood dribbled down its double chin, highlighting it's yellow, pointed teeth. Wilson stayed quiet, watching in morbid fascination as the beast had its fill. After half an hour it collapsed, snoring, into the grass. It was now that Wilson got a good look at this monster's face, and he gasped.

"Uncle Bradley?"

-

Willow trudged back. She had forgotten her clothes in her rush to get out of the camp. She was shivering now, arms folded and rubbing her shoulders to preserve her warmth. Her feet were hard and calloused by now, as Willow had always liked being barefoot. It felt freeing, as if she could feel the warmth of the earth between her toes, the fire of all things. But she wasn't feeling any warmth now. All her feet felt were the spiny edges of brambles and the uneven footing in the rocks. Never had the husk of a dead beast been such a welcome sight as she stumbled back into the camp.

However, her relief quickly changed to suspicion, "Wendy, what the hell is that?"

Wilson turned, eyes wide as the moon, and put a finger to his lips. Only than did he notice she was buck naked. He went an interesting shade of red and covered his face in his hands. Willow looked behind herself, trying to see what had scared Wilson so much. She crept closer to him and flicked him in the head, "Wendy, what the hell is that thing over there?"

Wilson peeked an eye out of his fingers, caught sight of her and blushed even harder, "For goodness sake Willow, put some clothes on!"

"Why? It's asleep! if we get one of the spears, we can kill it before it wakes up."

"Not as armour! Put some clothes on to cover yourself! Were you raised by bush camping nudists or something?"

"That doesn't seem like the biggest concern right now Willy!"

"It is to me! Please, put some clothes on!"

Willow rolled her eyes and spun about in place. She rooted around for her clothes and pulled everything on as fast as she could, getting her head stuck in the arm hole at least twice. When she was finally dressed, she flicked Wilson's head harder than before, "alright fussy britches, I'm done, y'can look now."

Wilson flicked an eye open and seemed to calm down a bit. At least until he remembered the giant pig beast.

"This is some sort of pig monster or pig man. It walked right into camp even after I tried to chase it away. It helped itself to the beefalo meat until it fell over and went to sleep," Wilson explained, trying to sit upright on the log. He didn't manage it, but he was now leaning on his arm, looking up at Willow.

"And why didn'tcha kill it while it was sleeping?"

"I thought it would wake up if got too close," Wilson replied, not meeting Willow's gaze, "anyway, we cannot kill it."

"I'm pretty sure we can. Two good stabs and its pork for dinner," Willow replied, grabbing up a spear.

"No!" Wilson yelled louder than he'd intended to. They both froze, watching the pig beast as it stirred. Its sleeping form shuffled about in the grass, and it rolled onto its back. After a few seconds, it settled again. Wilson began to whisper, "No no, we need to study it!"

"Dude. How're we gonna study this thing? The cave is miles away, and we can't move a corpse, let alone an unconscious pigman."

"Well we should at least find where this pig goes home to. If we know that, we might be able to find it again."

"Alright smart guy, how do you propose we do that?"

Wilson told her. She was to scamper away and hide just outside of the clearing. Far enough away that Wilson could not see her, but close enough that she could still see the pig. Then, they waited until the pig awoke. Several hours later it climbed to its feet, took a few more bites of the carcass, and began to trudge away. Now Willow began to move, circling around the clearing, using the trees as cover, until she reached where the pig had walked away.

She crept through the underbrush, making as little noise as possible. Every so often, she would catch glimpses of the creature. It was like a lumbering pink Boulder carving through the forest. This monster was easily double her size, and yet Willow had scarcely an issue keeping pace. In fact, more than once she had gotten too close and arose suspicion. She'd held her breath in panic as the beast perked its ears up and sniffed the air. It's sense of smell can't have been good, because it never caught her.

After three hours of walking, Willow was starting to wonder if this creature had actually seen her and was leading her on some wild goose chase. She glanced about, looking for anything that might be following her, and the shadows seemed to come alive beneath her gaze. She kept walking, if only to please her and Wilson's curiosity. Even still, by the end of it all her neck was damp with sweat. Finally, she caught sight of light, signifying an end to the forest. Up ahead, the pig burst out and into...

Willow ran the last leg, pushing through the underbrush just to see what she thought must be a mirage. But there it was, clear as the setting sun behind it. A village.

Tall spindly houses dotted the landscape with no real rhyme of reason, and patches of vegetables grew everywhere. Cobbled brick paths wound through the village in confusing patterns, and a strange windmill structure sat in the middle of it all. All throughout, pig men, pig women and pig children seemed to bustle through the streets. Willow ducked behind a bush to avoid being spotted, and surveyed the scene. The one she had been following disappeared between the houses, and Willow had half a mind to follow him. But she stayed hidden, watching them. She'd never really seen a village before, but she was aware of what houses were. They were so misshapen and wooden, making a stark contrast to the uniform, ugly cubes of living spaces she was used to. Willow watched the scene, drinking in as many answers to the questions she had and Wilson was bound to ask, before turning around and heading back the way she came.

-

Night was fast approaching, and Willow had not returned. Wilson had slumped himself on the ground in order to grab the enormous woollen duvet Willow had not burnt. He was now much cosier, and the rough ground did not sting quite so much, but the fire was getting low. Wilson watched with mounting panic as the sun began to drift downwards in parallel with the dying flames. Wilson struggled, his body wracked with pain as he tried to grab sticks and bring them back to the fire. It was slow work, taking two hours at least, but he managed to get enough sticks to reignite the fire.  
It was a tiny, yellow tongue of flame. It was nothing compared to the roaring great fires that Willow could conjure, but it did the job. As night fell, the only light came from the weak campfire, barely strong enough to light the two metres around it, and certainly not enough to keep Wilson warm. He did not mind. He kept looking into the darkness, trying to peer through its veil and find something. He shook from the cold as an unseasonal breeze whistled through the camp, threatening to snuff out his baby fire.  
Wilson didn't see that, as his personality seemed to shift with the wind, leaving behind WX-78. Wex stared about the camp, stared at the darkness, and stared at the fire. All with the expression of a face drawn onto a rock with a sharpie. He tried to stand up, and although his muscles twinged, his skin burned and his head ached, none of it could stop him. He walked to the very edges of the camp where Wilson would've had to crawl, and began collecting sticks again. He worked tirelessly, finding sticks and using them to expand the range of the light so that he could find even more sticks. When he was finished, the tower of sticks and flame was almost as tall as he was.  
WX took a seat back on the log, looked into the fire, and smiled.

-

Willow held her torch high above her head, being very careful not to set the forest on fire. If it had been hard to navigate this place in the day, it was an ordeal to do at night. Beaten tracks and paths all seemed to leave dead ends or double back on themselves. The coos of birds were haunting and only served to distract. The foliage seemed so dense in places that she had no idea what she could walk through and what was solid.

Finally, she seemed to find it. An enormous clearing, so so much more massive than Shitbug camp. She looked for the beefalo carcass or that creepy tree, but found neither. It was a completely new one. There was no way the torchlight would show her what was so special about this place, just because of its size alone. Willow stepped into the clearing, and her foot brushed against a mushroom. The mushroom began to glow blue, growing brighter by the moment. Two more popped up either side of it, glowing to match the intensity of the first. Then two more, then two more, then two more, until there was a huge, glowing ring of blue, illuminating the clearing. And in the centre of it all sat a gigantic statue.  
Willow stared at this statue for a long time. It wasn't that it was hard to see, being almost twice her size in both height and length. Nor was it particularly magical, being carved of simple stone with no gems or strange effects. No, it was just so...odd. At first, it appeared to be a fly, with bulbous eyes and tiny wings. But even by the statues depiction, it was fuzzy, almost more fluff than creature, and it's eyes seemed far to numerous and haphazardly placed. It had no mouth that Willow could see, only short, sharp legs, more like teeth hanging beneath it than actual limbs. Then there were its wings. No way could any creature that big have wings so miniscule. Even for this place, this creature had to be a fiction. But then why make a statue? Had there been other humans here, ones good enough at masonry and deep enough into a fever dream to carve this strange beast?

Willow didn't care, and didn't really want those answers, so she turned on her heel, skirted about the ring of mushrooms, and made a break for it into the forest. Once again, everything seemed endlessly confusing, with dead ends and obstructions and low hanging branches and...

She was back. She'd found Wilson, yet again. But her eyes were not drawn to him, but instead the tower of flame before him. It had burnt down to her eye level, but was no less magnificent for it. She walked closer, a string of drool falling from her mouth as she watched it flicker and twist like an exotic dancer. She was within its range, so close she could reach out and caress it's burning face...

"HELLO WILLOW."

Willow snapped back to reality at the grating sound of Wex's voice. She turned to look at him, as if seeing him for the first time. He was sitting, hunched over the fire, staring up at her from behind his steepled hands.

"Hey wex, what's up?"

Wex extended a finger upwards.

"You know what I mean asshat," Willow folded her arms, just missing a flicker of a smile from Wex. She gestured to the fire, "did you make this? I thought Wilson was too weak to stand up?"

"A NORMAL HUMAN WOULD STRUGGLE TO FUNCTION UNDER THE CONDITIONS OF THIS FORM, BUT I AM NOT HUMAN," Wex leaned back, picking up a stick and tossing it into the pile. The fire snapped it up, as if it were a living beast, "WHY? WOULD YOU HAVE ME FREEZE?"

"You know I wouldn't, I was just surprised is all," Willow walked around the fire to the felled beefalo. Using a spear, she carved out two chunks of meat and threw them on top of the fire. They sizzled immediately, "This is a chat I wanted to have with Wilson, but if you're out, you'll have to do. We need to leave this place. There's food and water here, but not safety. We need to carve off as much of the beefalo as I can carry and we need to get back to the cave."

Wex listened as she spoke, watching her with the eyes that didn't fit him, "I UNDERSTAND. BUT WHAT OF THE BEAST? IT IS A VALUABLE SOURCE OF HUMAN FUEL."

"We call that food mate, and yeah, it is, but it's not worth what's been happenin'. Between beefalo, wolves and pig men, this place is just gonna to get us killed," Willow replied, flipping over a sizzling bit of meat, "plus, with this huge fire..."

Willow trailed off, her gaze back to the roaring flame. She moved her hand from the meat, running it over the bumpy edge of the sticks.

"DID YOU HAVE MORE TO SAY?"

"Ah, crap, yeah, uh... Oh! Now that we've built this," she gestured to the flames her hands were still in, "this place is running low on good wood."

"HOW WILL YOU MOVE THIS FORM? TO TAKE THIS BODY ANY DISTANCE WOULD LIKELY DAMAGE IT FURTHER."

"Honestly, I was hoping you could give me some ideas. If you managed to do this, wouldn't you be able to walk us back?"

"DO YOU KNOW THE WAY?"

"Uh... God... Y'know I think it was..." Willow shook her head, "I forget."

"EVEN IF YOU KNEW THE WAY, THE MODE OF TRANSPORT I EMPLOY WOULD ULTIMATELY DESTROY THIS BODY," Wex replied, "WHILE I DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE THE SENSATION OF THIS FLESH, I WOULD STILL NOT BE CAPABLE OF MOVING THE BODY SHOULD IT'S ORGANS FAIL."

Willow nodded and sighed, poking the meat with her finger. Once satisfied, she hefted them both out of the fire and tossed one to Wex. The smell of burnt flesh was immediate, and Willow spotted smoke rising from Wex's skin.

"Drop it dude!"

Wex obliged, and the hunk meat hits the ground. The grass, soot and dirt cling to it in an instant. Meanwhile, Willow inspected Wex's quickly reddening hand, "I think I'm startin' to see whatcha mean."

Wex looked at her, then down at his hand. With his other hand, he reached down and picked up the meat.

"No dude, drop it!" Willow yelled before the burning began again. Wex dropped it again, "Listen, I'll grab you another piece."

"NEGATIVE. THIS MEAT IS STILL EDIBLE."

"It's been dropped on the ground. You're not actually going to eat off the ground are you?"

"THE GROUND IS AS NATURAL AS THE MEAT."

"Yeah, but you're a fuckin' bot in a human! That meat is gonna make you sick!"

"INCORRECT. THE MEAT HAS BEEN WELL COOKED, AND ANY TOXINS WILL HAVE BEEN EXPELLED."

"Yeah, but it got dirty after I cooked it!"

"IT WILL REPEL TOXINS DUE TO IT'S HIGH STORED HEAT."

"Do ya know that, or do ya think that?"

Wex said nothing, but the moment Willow leaned down to stop the fire overflowing, he snatched up the meat.

"Oi! What'd I just say?"

"SPOILED FOOD IS STILL FOOD."

"Dude, this thing is enormous, I can get you more food if you're that hungry. Aren't you robots supposed to be all logical and shit?"

"I AM LOGICAL. IT IS ILLOGICAL TO WASTE GOOD FUEL, THEREFORE I SHOULD CONSUME THIS MEAT. IF YOU ARE IMMUNE TO THE EFFECTS OF FLAME, IS IT NOT POSSIBLE THAT THIS FORM IS IMMUNE TO THE EFFECTS OF FOOD POISONING?"

"Given his current situation, I'd rather not check!"

"DOCTOR DICKBUTT WAS A SCIENTIST, PROGRAMMING ME WITH THE SAME MORALS AND THOUGHT PROCESSES. IT IS NECESSARY THAT WE TEST THESE THINGS TO REDUCE WASTE."

"We have a giant dead animal made of more fuel than we can eat, there's no way you need that bit of meat so badly that you can't just ignore it!"

Wex looked from her to the meat, and stuffed it into his mouth before Willow could stop him. He chewed and chewed, gulping it down in seconds.

"Wex!" Willow roared, standing up and looming over the fire with her hands raised.

Wex lifted his own hands to defend himself, "DO NOT. THIS BODY CANNOT SUSTAIN MORE DAMAGE."

"That was my point you bolt-for-brains fuckwit!" Willow screamed, her face coming through the fire, her glassy eyes glinting in the flame, "you can't just fucking poison yerself cuz you're too stubborn to take my advice!"

"I CANNOT BE POISONED."

"Maybe not when you were a robot, but you ain't a robot anymore you dense clusterfuck of stupid!" Willow jammed a finger into Wex's bare chest, "You're human! Y'hear that you bastard? You're human, and so is everyone else in that head of yours! This ain't about you, it's about Wolfgang, Willy, even that Wendy girl! Every decision you make, every burned finger, every choked morsel, every dirt covered steak, that affects all of them!"

Wex just stared at her. Only, it wasn't Wex anymore.

"Willow..."

"Willy?" Willow came back to earth. She was leaning on top of the fire, an outstretched hand still held against Wilson's chest. Her eyes stung, but not from the heat. She turned her head, pulling herself out of the fire and back to her log. She looked into the darkness, "M'sorry."

"I understand."

"Dunno if you do."

"Yes I do. You want to keep me safe."

"..."

"Am I wrong?"

"You keep doin' things. Stupid, stupid things. Ain'tchu s'posed to be smart?" Willow looked at him, over the flames that dwindled lower by the second. The once mighty fire slowly reducing to ashy sticks, "if y'are, y'do a bad job a' showin' it. Ya think ya know everythin, that's the only way I can explain it. Ya think just cuz you read some books, that nothin'll hurt ya."

"I do not think-"

"No. No ya don't. Ya think you're this...machine. Cool, calculated, watchin' everythin. But yer here. Yer here, yer hurt, and yer not makin' it better."

"What would you have me do? Mend my bones with magic?"

"Oh don'tchu start that shit. Who threw me in front of those beefalo? Who didn't tell me they'd never fought a wolf? Ya thought Wolfgang was yer destructive personality, but you're only alive right now cuz the rest of us know what we're doin'."

"Then who were you yelling at?"

"..."

"Well?"

"Wex. He ate some meat off the ground."

Wilson gagged, clutching his throat, "What?!"

"It was cooked."

"How does that make it better?"

"Well, it would've gone rid of the bugs and shit."

"Oh, so he dropped it and then you cooked it?"

"That would've been smart..."

Wilson began to try to stick his finger down his throat, but was too disgusted to actually poke the back of his throat. After a few minutes of frantic panic he turned to Willow, who was just watching him, "how are you so calm? He just poisoned me!"

"Well, I'm thinkin', wouldn't ya have thrown it up if it was really gonna hurt ya?"

"Not if I swallowed some weird virus!"

"Well, we're just gonna have to deal with that later."

"No! I need to get it out now!"

"Look, if ya can make yerself throw up, then more power to ya, but I'm goin' ta bed."

Willow turned over, her limbs feeling leaden. Wilson stared at her, hoping she had been joking. After ten minutes, when Willow's chest began to rise and fall with a calm rhythm, Wilson rolled over and tried to sleep too.


	21. Day 20

Despite the late night, they woke early. Willow's eyes fluttered open with the rising sun. She stared up at the branches, wavering in the breeze. If she squinted, she could imagine they were a crackling green fire. She turned over the idea of going back to the mountain as she lay there. Wex had been right, and she'd known before she'd even asked him. Wilson's body was in no state to go anywhere, especially not walking such a massive distance. Even still, they couldn't stay here. She clutched her head and groaned, she hated this. She didn't like having to have the answers.

"Are you alright Willow?"

Willow turned her head to look. Sure enough, Wilson was sitting upright, propped against his log. He had wrapped himself in the unburnt beefalo blanket and looked warmer. The color had returned to his bone-white cheeks, and the bags under his eyes were fading.

"Just thinkin'."

"Is that all?" Wilson said, a sly smile playing around his mouth, "I can help with that if you like."

Willow rolled her eyes but paused. She took a deep breath and sighed, as if she was trying to push her brain out through her nose, "alright."

There was a pause as Willow tried to order her thoughts, "We can't stay here."

"Why not?"

"Because if ya haven't friggin noticed, we keep gettin' attacked," Willow said, pushing herself upright.

"You do not need to get angry with me, I am just asking a question," Wilson said. Willow looked about ready to reply, but Wilson cut her off, "there is no way for me to get home in my current state."

"Yeah, that's m'problem, and I can't think of anythin' that could help."

"A sled perhaps?"

"You think I can pull yer ass up a mountain by myself?"

"Fair point," Wilson scanned the area, the circular clearing that was shitbug camp, "we need to make this place safer."

Willow raised an eyebrow, "y'got an idea?"

"I believe so. There are plenty of trees around here. If I build enough axes, we could cut them down and turn them into walls."

"Can yer power make walls?"

"I do not know, but it is worth a shot."

-

It was a long day. The air was cool, but Willow was still covered in a sheen of sweat by the end of it all. She was much better with burning fire than burning muscles. When Wilson did up the final tally, they had 47 logs, total. They'd burned through three axes, and a portion of the day had been spent stockpiling resources to make more. Thirteen Flint pieces and eight sticks were all Willow could get her hands on, but Wilson assured her that logs were more important. Wilson tried to combine the logs, but no matter how many he held, he couldn't get the glow to come.

"Argh!" Wilson yelled, hurling a log away. His aching chest sung as he moved, causing the log to bounce onto the grass at his feet. He stared at it in disdain, as if it had sent him here personally, "this was a waste of time."

"Woulda been nice to know that earlier," Willow said, using a spear edge to slice of some beefalo meat. They had made a decent chunk into its hide, big enough that Willow could fit her whole head in some places. Willow was sure the beast was soon to rot, but until then, she would take advantage of its ease of access wherever she could, "s'not a total waste though. We've got plenty of firewood now. Saves me havin' to do it later."

"Yes, because we have so many better things to be doing."

"I do actually. I'm gonna go south tomorrow," Willow said, gesturing to the wall of trees in that direction.

"And leave me alone? What if more monsters come?"

"You'll be fine ya ninny. There's been no howlin' or livin' beefalo here for ages. Asides, I wanna know what's down there. We've got the mountains out east, those pigs off ta the west, and that field up north."

"Oh, I completely forgot to ask, what happened with that pig?"

"..."

"Did... Did something happen?"

"No, s'just... I dunno how to describe it. Like I knew y'd ask, but I didn't really..." Willow took a deep breath, "there were a bunch of them. They were in these... I guess they were houses, but they didn't look like any houses I've seen."

"A civilization? My goodness..." Wilson stroked his furry chin, "what was it that made them seem odd?"

"Well, they were really thin and tall, and they were made of wood. Plus, there was no order to it... S'hard to explain."

"I believe I understand. If they have a civilization, then why would they need to come so far away to find food? And why do they not wear any clothes?"

"Probably don't have to. You saw em, they're so big, I reckon they're warm already. All that fat, just burnin' away..."

Wilson gave Willow a sideways glance, but said nothing, "well, I suppose we have plenty of wood now. If you teach me how to stoke the fire, I suppose you can explore."

"Thanks fer the permission Willy," Willow replied, rolling her eyes.

Willow spent the rest of the day showing Wilson what do with the fire. She showed him the rubbing technique of stick on a plank, she showed him how to use the Flint, taught him how often to put new logs on, what to be wary off, and more.

"Okay, so when the fire gets too low, I shall throw on one log."

"Bingo. And what if the fire starts smokin?"

"I shall use the spear to move the logs around, allowing more air to get to the lower wood."

"Awesome! I think yer ready to go!"

The night dropped on the two of them like a beluga whale falling from an airplane. Wolfgang emerged an hour later, and he chatted with Willow for a while. She gave him the rundown on keeping the fire. He found it far easier than Wilson, seeing no need to over complicate it. Willow was pretty sure he wasn't getting all of it, but she was tired and the other personalities could handle it. The two of them turned over and went to sleep, sinking off to dreamland after a hard day.


	22. Day 21, part one

Willow set off around midday, leaving a still sleeping Wilson at the camp. Fashioning a kind of sling from the old poncho, she stored a few pieces of meat. She grabbed up a spear, and set out, ready to face the world. She walked for twenty minutes before it hit her. It was freezing cold. Icy, even. It hadn't exactly been warm yesterday, but Willow was shivering with every step. She grabbed the first pieces of Flint she found on her trek and stuffed a bunch of leaves down her top.

She slammed the Flint together in her shivering hands, lighting the foliage up in seconds. She sighed as the warmth filled up her chest, her face obscured by the smoke. For some reason, her clothes didn't burn. She'd not noticed it before, but even when she'd leaned over the fire, they wouldn't catch. She pulled at the dress fabric, running it through her hands. She could feel nothing different, but that could have been her fingers going stiff and numb.

She grabbed more leaves and wrapped them around her feet with twine. From there, she set about lighting a fire inside her shoes. The sensation was glorious, such a contrast to the icy wind on her face. She dropped to her knees, trying to bring her body into the warmth, breathing in the smoke. In minutes, she wrapped all her regular clothing around the satchel, shielding it from the flames that now engulfed her body.

Willow could hardly see straight for the smoke and the intoxication of flames. She was at least trying to walk, but she staggered about on the stony ground like a drunk. She didn't notice when she left the forest and wandered out onto cracked, waterless dirt. She didn't see the outcrop of boulders, towering above her like wannabe mountains. She certainly didn't see the huge ball of black fur sitting atop a straw nest. But the ball saw her.

This ball of fur didn't quite know what it was looking at. Out of nowhere, a creature that was nothing but smoke and fire appeared. It danced about the cold earth, giggling witlessly to itself. The ball tried to ignored it, but the creature was so odd, and getting too close. The fur ball felt the warmth of its egg beneath it, the egg it needed to protect. The fire creature was so close that the ball could smell the noxious scent of burning evergreen.

A bit of ash dropped away from Willow's face, and she looked out onto the landscape. Just in time to see the ball of fur unfurl two long legs and rocket into the air. Up, up, up it went. Willow stared as a beak appeared from underneath the fur. A glassy yellow eye the size of Willow's head fluttered open and stared back at her. There was a beat of silence, save the crackling of fire, where the two strange creatures beheld one another.

Willow tried to back up, but the bird screeched and charged. In four massive strides, it was on her. Willow dived out of the way as its beak slammed into the dirt. A plume of smoke caught the creature in its eye, and it screeched again. Willow fumbled inside her sling, clutching the spear as the furry thing shook the smog from its face. It charged again, and Willow was ready this time. She held the spear aloft, trying to catch the beast on its way down. The bird was smarter than that, and bobbed its head to the side to avoid the spear, stabbing into her foot. Willow screamed as its beak pierced her toe, and the bird screeched as a burning bramble poked it in the eye.

It's eye was going blood red now, making this horrific monster even more demonic. Willow had seconds to dodge beneath its legs as it tried to peck again. She slashed at its legs, catching the spear against bone. The bird kicked backwards, raking its claws along the brambles. Lucky for Willow, it didn't get through her armour.

The monster used the kick to push itself around to face Willow, but Willow stabbed at its leg again. The spear sailed past the side of its rake thin limb. The slash caused Willow to over-commit, and the bird drove its beak into her back. Again, Willow screamed, and again, the monster burned. The furry creature took too long to bring its head back, and Willow took advantage. She buried the spear into the bottom of its head. No bone, no resistance, the spear ran the bird right through, piercing from the eye out to the other side.

The eye burst, and an outpouring of blood splashed atop Willow. The blood sizzled and caught, sending a great tongue of flame out behind Willow. A beacon of her victory. The bird stayed aloft for a moment, then pitched forward, smashing into the dirt. A steady pool of blood began to appear around it.

Willow looked at it, staring through her burning visor that was crumbling to ash. She sank to her knees, and fell forward, slamming into the hard ground. Her arms barely cushioned the fall, but they managed to stop her from knocking herself out. The wound in her back was bleeding, but the fire was doing a job of cauterizing it. Willow tried to stand back up, but the blood loss was too much and she threw up. The vomit didn't catch, and the smell was horrendous, forcing her to crawl her way downwind. After an hour and a half on the floor, she wasn't feeling quite so nauseous. She stood up and surveyed her kill.

It was even stranger up close. Parting it's thin fur, she found its skin to appear burned and blistered. Bumps and lesions covered its grey flesh. The beak was a strange, dull purple hue, and clinked when Willow tapped it. Of course, willow finally came to the eyeball. The lid hadn't shut when the bird died, as it had had a certain spear puncturing it. Willow yanked it out, making a grotesque squelch as the wood and flint was removed from the flesh.

The once pristine weapon was now covered end to end in red viscera. It was warm in her hands, so Willow didn't mind as much. She staggered over the birds spindly legs until she found the nest. It was a small affair, built from tightly packed twigs and dead grass. Atop it sat a huge blue egg, as large as her head, covered in white spots. Willow took off one of her burning sleeves and reached a hand out. The egg was warm to the touch, and seemed to push into her hand.

Willow rubbed the shell, feeling the smooth surface beneath her cooling fingertips. Her body still crackled with fire as she squatted beside this huge egg. A single exposed arm was the only proof that she was still human beneath her burning shrub armour. Smoke rose high into the air, spiralling up and up into the slate grey clouds.

Willow looked around now. The smell of blood and the cold air on her face brought a bit of clarity to her mind. She saw the great stones rising from the earth. A stone to her right appeared to have veins made of honey. Willow hefted up her pouch, stowed her spear, and walked over to the strange stone. As she got closer, she saw the veins glisten and dance against the firelight of her body. Gold. Willow knew what gold was. She ran a finger along a particularly meaty vein, feeling it's icy coolness. She shivered.


	23. Day 21, part two

Wilson's teeth were banging together so loudly that he woke himself up, causing him to jolt a bit. The jolt caused him to bite his own lip, which in turn made him splutter in surprise, which turned into a cough. After a few minutes, Wilson was able to take a few breaths, but the air was cold. Painfully cold. Wilson looked over and found the fire-pit dwindling into ashes. He whipped his head about, looking for Willow, but he didn't find her. He sighed. He knew she'd come back, he knew she'd be fine, and he knew that he could keep the fire going. Even still, he couldn't help but worry.

That, and God was it boring. No-one to talk to and nothing to see but the campfire. Wilson would've killed for his journal. He figured it had probably been destroyed up in the cave. Perhaps blown out by a gust of wind or something. Wilson sighed again and poked the flames. At least you won't leave me, he thought.

"Yo! Willy!"

Wilson spun about, shrieked, and fell backward, "Clothes, Willow! Where are your clothes!"

"Right here," Willow ran over and presented her poncho-pack, "anyway, I've got something important t' ask. Do ya think y'can make a pickaxe?"

"I do not know, now could you please put those clothes back on," Wilson asked as Willow crashed on top of the flames, "how are you naked anyway? it is freezing!"

"Ah, well my clothes weren't that warm."

"So you just took them off?"

"Nah, I set m'self on fire," Willow explained, pulling her shirt on. The wood cracked beneath her shifting weight, sending up sparks.

Wilson looked like he wanted to argue with that, but he gave up, "so hang on, why do you need a pickaxe?"

"I found gold! Huge boulders, fulla gold!"

"My goodness," Wilson stroked his chin, his embarrassed grimace giving way to his more natural inquisitiveness, "how big are these boulders?"

"God, musta been up to here on me," Willow stood up and reached her hand as high above her head as it would go.

"Well that's fantastic! With that much gold, I can use it as a conductor," Willow smiled, his eyes lighting up, "Willow, I can go home!"

"Fuck yeah!" Willow said, causing Wilson to wince, "and then you'll get me home, right?"

"Of course. Now, grab me that Flint. Let me see if I can make that pickaxe."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, after making a new spear and another axe, Wilson was holding a pickaxe. It was as sharp as the spear, with excellent balance and weight. Willow gave it a few swings, testing it out as it cleaved through the air.

"Man Willy, you make some beautiful stuff."

"I have to agree," Wilson said, watching the pick move, "now, before you leave, show me how you set yourself alight."

"Y'sure y'wanna see that? Ain'tchu gotta wife?"

Wilson took a deep breath, sitting himself up as straight as his pained spine would allow, "this is for science."

Willow gave him a sideways glance, "a'ight, don't have a heart attack, okay?"

Willow wandered out of sight of the camp for a moment, and returned with an armful of twine and grass. She dumped it near the campfire, before stripping the evergreens of their leaves. As she began to undress, yanking off her shirt and skirt, Wilson's neck began to go a curious shade of red. In a moment, it was all over, and Willow had strapped the leaves around her torso. She wrapped it around her head, then legs, then finished up on the arms with some help from Wilson. Finally, she was ready, looking like a tiny tree if not for the eyeholes she'd cut into the leaves.

For the final touch, she belly flopped onto the fire, where her upper body immediately caught. She stowed the pick in her insulated bag as her arms began to catch, waved Wilson goodbye, and began to run back to the gold.

"I can't believe that was in my brain.."


	24. Day 21, part three

Willow sprinted as fast as she could, her punctured foot causing her to limp along as she ran. Every so often, she'd twist her back too much and have to slow down. Every time she did, the cold would seep into her skin, into her muscles. It would come down her throat, making it feel like she'd drunken acid. Then she would run again. Despite the pain in her foot. Despite the pain of her back. Despite her aching lungs. Those were all better than the cold.

As she ran, her fire flickered in a long trail, sending plumes of smoke along her path. The grass was too wet to burst into flames as she ran, but the hiss of evaporating water was loud with every step. Finally, she felt the clacking of her shoes against hardened dirt. She skidded to a stop and surveyed her surroundings. Her hot breath plumed in front of her, making it even harder to see. The smell of the icy air, that muted scent, mixed in with the evergreen smell. She could taste the ashen leaves in her mouth with every inhale.

She caught sight of the corpse a few meters away, it's pool of red blood throwing its black body into sharp relief. It was only now, as Willow advanced upon it, that she saw the egg. This huge ostrich egg, blue as ice with white spots covering its surface. It sat in a straw nest, almost hidden behind its now dead mother. Willow stooped down, looking the egg over. She pulled off one of her fire gloves and pressed a hand against the shell.

The egg was still warm. Something inside willow twinged. Perhaps guilt. Perhaps an old memory. Perhaps it was simply hunger. But whatever it was, it was enough for her to pick the egg up and wrap it in her bag. It was huge and took up most of the bag, but if she kept the pickaxe out she was sure it would be fine.

Willow walked over to the rock. The titan of stone, laced in golden strands. She slammed the pick against the rock. Once, twice, three times. The sound of metal clanging on metal rung loud against this silent landscape. Rung loud into the dark, cloudy sky. After ten minutes, when her hands felt that they might burst for the blisters, the boulder came crumbling down. Willow began the task of yanking her gloves back on to get away from the cold again.

She hefted the rubble in her arms and began the trek home. The fire was out now, leaving only the cooling ashes wrapped around her. Her teeth clacked as if she were a machine, and her chest shivered in time. She hobbled as fast she could move to the tree line, but she was so exhausted and it was so cold. Finally, after what felt like an hour, Willow made it to the trees. In fumbling, shaking hands, she grasped her flints.

Clack.

Come on.

Clack.

Come on.

Clack.

Come on!

Clack

Argh!

Clack. Fwoosh.

A single, tiny flame caught against the tree. Willow held her hands around the fire, desperate for its warmth. She watched as it refused to climb up the tree. Only the very tip wanted to ignite, the little fire already blackening the leaves it was living upon. Clack. Willow tried to burn further down the branch. Clack. Willow tried to burn a different branch. Clack. Willow tried to burn a nearby tree.

"Fuck this place," Willow muttered aloud.

She hit the flint pieces together over and over. Clack, clack, clack. Each swing more exaggerated than the last, each one with more swearing than the previous. By the end, Willow was screaming at the tree, screaming at God, screaming at the cold. But no amount of screaming would make this tree ignite. If it could, her language alone would have brought the whole forest to the ground.

The first little fire had dwindled by now, and Willow knew what she had to do. She began to walk.


	25. Chapter 21, part four

Wilson kept glancing about the clearing. Every rustling of the leaves, every whistling of the wind, every crackle of the campfire made him look up. It all felt so muted, so quiet here. The fog above his head seemed to swirl with fervor and stay perfectly still at the same time. He sighed, his inhale becoming a yawn. It had been half an hour, and he'd seen no sign of Willow. In fact, he'd changed twice while waiting, and he didn't realize it had instead been two hours.

Wolfgang had complained about the cold to a passing bluebird, but WX had said nothing. He had sat completely still, looking ahead at nothing, achieving the kind of patience only a robot can. Then Wilson had come back, returning with his twitching and his fear. The fire blazed well, keeping Wilson warm beneath his blanket.

The only positive of all this cold, Wilson thought, is that the dead beast no longer smells quite so poignant. As he was thinking this, he heard a scream echo through the forest. A long, strangled call. It caused Wilson to jump in surprise, falling on his side beneath his blanket burrito. He pushed his legs out and winced at the sudden cold. He pushed through it, standing himself up.

The scream, he knew it was Willow. Few other creatures screamed like that. Wilson bundled himself up and began to walk. He wanted to run, but he knew his body would never be able to do it. He began to hobble as fast as he could, almost tripping many times. He felt the pine trees smack his face and the frozen air claw at his lungs, but still, he walked.

After he'd been walking for twenty minutes, Wilson worried he'd gone the wrong way. There had been no more noise, no more screams. Wilson hated the silence. It was as if the world was withholding what he needed to know. His skin burned with cold, but he was still sweating. His heart pounded, thrumming a war drum behind his eyes, urging him to go faster. Urging him to-

Willow.

He found her slumped on the ground, naked but for the ashes. Her pouch had fallen beneath her, the rocks propping her back at an awkward angle. Her pale skin had gone grey, and her lips were blue. Wilson let out a yelp and rushed to her side. He began to open the blanket, and the sudden shock made him freeze in place. He took deep breaths, moving his stiffening arms until they brought Willow into the massive blanket. He hugged her close, freezing tears rolling down his cheeks. The pain and the emotion and the cold all welled up in Wilson Percival until he screamed. A curse to the sky, to the circumstances. He held Willow close and felt her heartbeat. It was faint, weakened, but there. Wilson's tears continued to flow. Ugly, ugly tears of joy and anger.

With great difficulty, Wilson pushed himself back onto his feet, Willow in his arms. She was so light. It was as if she'd never eaten a good meal in her life. Despite this, Wilson struggled to hold her. His shaking hands, his destroyed ribs, his burns, all screamed that it couldn't be done. Wilson tried to ignore them, but they weren't wrong. The trip that took twenty minutes before took an hour with this new weight. The winds seemed to buffet Wilson about the path, knocking him down again and again. Willow's pickaxe kept poking into his side and jostling about. Sometimes, the wind would blow so hard that it would throw up the blanket and blast against the two of them. Each time, Wilson couldn't contain his screams of pain.

Finally, they made it to the camp. Wilson's face was a mess of frozen tears and snot, but he had brought Willow home. He sunk to his knees in front of the dwindling flames, his icy fingers fumbling at the reserve wood. One log. Another. He shoved stick after stick onto the coals, but it wasn't hot enough to catch. He turned, tearing Willow's satchel away and rummaging around inside. Finally, he found what he was after. The Flint pieces she always used. They were slick, slick with blood. Wilson faltered when he saw the red, even through his frozen eyes. Her spear was in the bag, still intact. What had she used the Flint on?

There was no way Wilson could start a fire with these. He stowed them back in the pack, and instead reached for the pick and one of the rocks she'd taken from the boulder. Wilson slammed the pick into the ground, embedding one of its sharp edges into the soft dirt with a thunk. Then, clasping it in both hands, Wilson slammed the rock against the pick head. A noise rippled through the grove, and Wilson saw sparks leap from the pick. They didn't hit the wood, falling upon the cold grass instead.

He tried again. He grunted in rage and pain, his injuries now starting to catch up. The fire refused to catch. Wilson turned, staring down at Willow, her breathing faint beneath the beefalo blanket.

Wilson swiveled back to the coals, raising the rock as high above his head as his back would allow, and slammed it down hard. Sparks leaped from the pick in all directions, and a few of them hit the wood. Flames burst into the cold air, throwing out a wave of warm air against Wilson's skin. Wilson slumped backward, the rock falling from his hand. He sat there for a while, his breathing ragged and his breaths steaming in the air. The flames flickered before him, reminding him that there was one more step.

With a deep breath, Wilson pushed himself onto his knees. With his blistered hands, he grabbed Willow, pulling her up until he was hugging her unconscious body. The body of his only friend in this wretched place.

"Stay with me."

He turned, using gravity to help him toss Willow's body onto the blaze. With a fwump, she connected with the wood. Wilson slumped down again, trying to keep Willow in his sight as she lay sprawled on the campfire. His eyes fluttered, and he tried to keep them open...


	26. Day 22

Wolfgang woke up sometime later. He wrapped his hands around himself, despite the roaring fire and blanket.

" **Is like winter from home! Is Wolfgang home?** "

The words fell on deaf ears, and Wolfgang quickly saw why.

" **Witch girl! Is you having sleep in?** "

Wolfgang resolved to not try and wake her up. She would not like the cold, he reasoned, it is probably why she slept bathed in flame. Naked. Wolfgang wasn't even going to guess why she was doing that. That was witch girl's business, not his. He sat up, rolling his shoulders and twisting his body in various places. Still painful as ever, but his shoulder did feel a little smoother when it moved. Wolfgang sighed, glancing about the camp. He wanted to get up and do things, to go fighting! God, how long had it been since he'd had a good fistfight? Or a wrestle? He glanced up at the corpse of the beefalo, which was starting to get wisps of ice on its fur. He wished it was still alive so it could give him another round.

Alas, Wolfgang's wishes were not powerful enough to raise the dead. So instead, he limped over to the creature, blanket in tow, and nestled into its still thick hair. The ice pressed into the back of his neck, making him grit his teeth, but soon the ice melted, leaving the hair to dry. As he was getting settled in, the campfire began to get low. He could see Willow shiver as the retreating flame left her body exposed to the elements. Wolfgang, being the sterling intellect he was, picked up the biggest log to hand and hurled it at the fire. It impacted hard, throwing up a shower of ash and reigniting the embers. Unfortunately, it also slammed into the top of Willow's skull.

"Ah! God- Fuck- What was that?" Willow screamed, flailing in the blaze. Her legs didn't quite want to work, as they only managed to kick up dirt rather than getting her upright. Her hands had more purpose, clutching her head to protect against the blow that had already come.

" **Wolfgang is sorry witch girl! Try to restart fire, but your face not in good place,** " Wolfgang replied, sinking a bit lower into the blanket.

"Fuck- ARGH!" Willow roared as her legs continued to misbehave, "it felt like a damn brick!"

" **Was very brick-shaped, is true.** "

"Shut up willy, I'm not in the mood," Willow said, rubbing her forehead harder and gritting her teeth, "ARGH!"

" **Is not Willy, is Wolfgang,** " Wolfgang explained, taking a deep breath and rasing his face over the blanket, " **Does witch girl need help?** "

"No no, I just- Fuck man, that really hurt."

" **Is sorry. Wolfgang not know how to fix head hurt.** "

The two of them lapsed into a silence as cold as the air. Wolfgang stayed very still, waiting for Willow's rage to fade. Willow kept her hands on her head as a large sized egg built itself beneath her black hair. Her rage did not fade, and a growl escaped her lips every time her palm skipped off the bruise.

"What're ya doin over there anyway?"

" **Here?** "

"Yeah dumbass. Willy sleeps over there," Willow said, gesturing to where Wolfgang had woken up.

" **Is change of scenery.** "

"That it huh? Well if you walk a couplea hundred metres that way," Willow jerked a thumb in the direction of the field of boulders, "you'll find some real different scenery."

" **What out there?** "

Willow turned to look out into the trees, and her face hardened, "trust me, you don't wanna know."

" **Will it come here?** "

"Ya sure you ain't willy?" Willow turned back to the fire, moving the heavy wood Wolfgang had thrown into a better place, "I'm hopin' not, but I'm not used ta gettin' what I want."

" **If come, Wolfgang will fight,** " Wolfgang's fists tightened beneath the blankets. His muscles stung from cold and underuse.

"Issat a promise?"

" **Yes. Wolfgang always keep promise.** "

"Right. Well promise me you won't throw anymore wood at me," Willow replied, turning to stare at Wolfgang, "and while we're on the subject, promise me you'll let me sleep."

" **Wolfgang promise. Also, is very sorry.** "

"Yeah yeah," Willow replied, turning over in the flames.


	27. Day 23

WX-78 sat up straight and winced. This bodies abs were not quite as powerful as his used to be. He looked about the camp, nearly doing his neck in trying to turn it at all the way around. Human bodies were so limited, he thought, why would anyone want one? He caught sight of Willow, still laying in her Phoenix nest. Beside her sat an enormous man. Even crouched, he looked so tall. Wex immediately slowed his movements, watching the giant man. This new being had a pencil thin mustache atop a pencil-thin mouth. However, his chin was massive, looking to be as big as Willow's forehead.

He wore a strange one piece, like a striped swimsuit that hugged his powerful body. Atop his head rested hair so thin and oily it appeared to be a toupee. Wex was having a hard time figuring out how this man was here, given the blistering cold. He reasoned that the extra size might be because of blubber, keeping him insulated against the elements.

"ARE YOU FRIEND OR FOE?"

The huge man fell over backward in shock, sending up a bit of snow into the air, before scrambling to get upright.

" **God, is this how puny man sound? No wonder witch girl always know it me...** " He said, staring at WX-78 with his hazel eyes. He stuck out his hand to Wex, " **is Wolfgang! Wolfgang think... Wolfgang been living in you?** "

Wex said nothing, and did not take Wolfgang's hand, instead fixing him with unblinking eye contact. Wolfgang's arm wilted away as he realised the shake wasn't coming. He looked around the clearing, trying to avoid the dispassionate gaze. He rocked back and forth on his heel.

" **So... Is you coming around here... Often?** " Wolfgang tried.

"ARE YOU FRIEND OR FOE?"

" **What is 'FOE'?** " Wolfgang asked, " **is like bread stuff?** "

"ARE YOU FRIEND OR THREAT?"

" **Wolfgang know that word!** " Wolfgang ran up to Wex's sitting form and thrust his fist into Wex's face. Before the blow could connect, Wolfgang stopped, bringing his fist inches from WX-78's face. Wex did not move, and stared at Wolfgang, " **Is threat! Like that!** "

Wolfgang chuckled, his booming laugh echoing throughout the forest and causing snow to shake itself from the trees. Again, Wex's emotionless demeanor dissolved Wolfgang's good cheer and returned the awkward silence.

" **Is... Is you mad at Wolfgang?** "

Wex was about to say something when they both heard a loud crunch and a groan from behind them. Wolfgang turned to see Willow struggling to her feet.

"Urgh..." She groaned, rubbing the soot from her eyes.

Wolfgang stooped down to offer a hand, " **Witch girl! Is you okay?** "

At this point, Wex finally stood, levelling his arm to point at Wolfgang, "GET AWAY FROM THE GIRL, OR I WILL OPEN FIRE."

Wolfgang looked at Wex's thin outstretched arm, then back to his face, " **Is not much of gun show, is it?** "

"Wex? Wolf...gang? How're you both..." Willow trailed off as the soot fell from her eyes and she got a good look at the scene before her. She turned to look at the enormous human towering beside her and leapt out of the way, "Who the fuck're you?"

" **Is me witch girl! Wolfgang!** " Wolfgang flexed, his muscles bulging beneath his enormous chin. He smiled, " **ah, is good to have Wolfgang body back.** "

Willow turned to WX-78, "Wex, what the hell're you doin?"

Wex did not move his eyes from Wolfgang, his arm held steady and pointing at Wolfgang's face, "AN UNKNOWN ENTITY HAS ENTERED CAMP SHITBUG. I AM TO MEET IT WITH APPROPRIATE FORCE SHOULD IT ATTACK."

" **Wolfgang told you who Wolfgang is! Is Wolfgang!** " Wolfgang said, his arms out wide. He seemed to take up the whole camp with his arms alone, " **come, give Wolfgang a hug! Wolfgang will not hurt you!** "

Wex turned to Willow, "WHAT IS A 'HUG'?"

Willow rubbed her palms over her face and sat down, "oh my god you emotionally stunted- it's a good thing, okay? Stand down or whatever it is you need to do. He's not gonna hurt you."

Wex lowered his arm back to his side. Wolfgang, seeing his opportunity, leaped forward and wrapped Wex up in a powerful bear hug.

" **HAHAHAHAH!** " His laughter boomed throughout the camp once more, causing birds to flutter out of their trees, " **See puny man, is not so bad!** "

"OW OW OW OW OW."

"Alright Wolfgang, that's enough, put 'im down," Willow said, stumbling over and tending to the fire.

Wex dropped with a loud 'Fwump' as he hit the ground, "WOLFGANG THREAT LEVEL: INCONCLUSIVE."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," Willow said, pulling her clothes back on. She turned to look at Wolfgang, "y'know, I kinda thought all that muscle talk was fer show."

Wolfgang chuckled and sat down next to Willow, the firelight dancing off his enormous neck muscles, " **Wolfgang is real deal! How else Wolfgang going to wrestle bear?** "

"Speakin' of muscles, y'remember our bet?"

" **Like is yesterday. Though Wolfgang not had much chance to go find bird.** "

"All I'm hearin' is excuses mate."

" **Wolfgang not make excuses! Is legitimate grievance!** "

"Legitima whatnow?" Willow says, raising an eyebrow, "the hell kinda words are those?"

" **Is something picked up back in home country.** "

"LEGITIMATE: BEING EXACTLY AS PURPOSED. GRIEVANCE: A REAL OR IMAGINED CAUSE FOR COMPLAINT, ESPECIALLY UNFAIR TREATMENT. LEGITIMATE GRIEVANCE: A CAUSE FOR COMPLAINT EXACTLY AS PURPOSED."

Willow and Wolfgang looked at each other.

" **Is puny one always like this?** "

"Nah, this is Wex, you'll meet Willy soon. Wex is always like this though."

"AFFIRMATIVE."

" **Ah. Is good to properly meet Wex! Come, shake Wolfgang's hand!** " Wolfgang thrust his arm forward once more, presenting both it and a wide smile.

Wex looked over at Willow, who nodded, before reaching his hand out. His tiny palm was a third the size of Wolfgang's and was immediately covered as Wolfgang clamped down.

" **HAHAHAHAHAH!** " Wolfgang said, shaking the smaller person's whole body through his arm. Poor Wex juddered where he stood, his normally blank face grimacing in displeasure.

When Wolfgang finally let him go, Wex's hand flopped by his side. Reaching up with his left arm, he slammed his palm into his shoulder. There was a loud click, and his dislocated shoulder popped back into place. Willow winced.

"Jesus Wolf, how hard'd ya shake him?"

" **AHAHAH! Don't worry witch-girl, is normal! Wolfgang hands always have kick to them! Is why they called guns!** " he extended an arm to Willow, " **Want go?** "

Willow shook her head, "I'll pass. I like my shoulders where they are, thank ya very much."

Wex took a seat on the other side of the fire, as far away from Wolfgang as he could be, and eyed him up the entire night. Willow got to work cooking, carving out three slabs of beefalo meat and hurling them onto the "grill". They cooked quickly, despite the cold, and she gave a slab each to the other two.

" **Is witch girl not eating?** "

"Nah, I like mine a little blacker," Willow said, her eyes moving over the burning meat like the skin of a lover.

Wolfgang shrugged and proceeded to chew down the entire steak in about three bites. Willow's gaze was yanked away by the spectacle that was his jaw. It powderized the meat in seconds, the toughness of it's hide being no match for Wolfgang's hunger.

" **Is any seconds?** " Wolfgang asked, patting the abs where a belly should've been.

"Uh, yeah, hang on."

Once again, Willow grilled up some meat, and once again, Wolfgang tore through it like he was starving. Her own food was ready by the time Wolfgang had finished both helpings.

"Jesus mate, slow down! Y'll give yourself a stomach ache or somethin'," Willow said, nibbling off a bit of the burnt steak.

" **Bah, puny food cannot defeat Wolfgang stomach. All of Wolfgang is strong,** " Wolfgang nodded, " **Can have some more?** "

"No way mate. If ya keep eatin' like that, we'll be out of food in a day!"

"Wouldn't it be better to starve to death?" a voice piped in.

"Wendy," Willow said, not even turning around, "What d'you want?"

"To see my sister."

"Yer..." Willow turned around now, to see the body of Wilson hunched forward, his legs pulled up to his chin with his arms wrapped around them, "Y've got a sister?"

" **Uh, who is you?** "

Wendy looked up, her eyes going wide, "It's a strong-man..."

"A what? Hang on, answer my-"

" **Why yes! Wolfgang is strongest man!** "

Wolfgang stood up, particles of steak showering onto the fire. He began to pose, flexing himself in all directions. Wendy watched on in silent wonder, her mouth and eyes wide. Wolfgang smiled beneath his pencil-thin mustache, as he gave Hoo's, Hrgh's, and Hah's. When he was finally done, he took a deep bow, and Wendy clapped accordingly.

Wolfgang sat back down and leaned over to Willow, " **Wex is much nicer now! Is not him when he's hungry huh?** "

"No- I mean- Look, that's Wendy. You used to live in there, and so do a few others. Wex and Wendy are some'a them."

" **AH-HA! Is young maiden!** " Wolfgang turned himself towards Wendy, and extended a hand over the fire, " **Is pleasure to meet Wendy!** "

"And you, oh strong-man," Wendy said, her eyes full of such childish wonder that Willow felt her heart soften, "How do your muscles grow so large?"

" **Is many years of hard work on Babushka's farm! Wolfgang is largest of Amadeus family, but great-papa used be even bigger!** "

"Even bigger?" Wendy mouthed, barely above a whisper.

" **Is right!** " Wolfgang beamed, delighting in the chance to talk about his family, " **Old mountain, we used call him! Wolfgang seen pictures, and he live to that name.** "

"Could he lift mountains?"

Wolfgang rubbed his chin in thought, " **He never mention it, but Wolfgang sure he could've. Great papa never backed down from** **challenge.** "

"Woah… And can you?" Wendy asked, "Lift mountains, I mean?"

" **HAHAHAHAHAHA!** " Wolfgang's thunderous laugh boomed outwards, causing Wendy to have to brace herself on her log, " **Wolfgang not yet that strong, but one day! Wolfgang still has long life ahead.** "

"Not if ya eat all've our food ya won't," Willow said, smiling over the fire.

" **HAH! Wolfgang will just hunt more! And find that bird, so that settle our bet,** " Wolfgang nodded towards Wendy, " **Witch-girl is believe Wolfgang cannot fight bird!** "

"Can you?" Wendy asked.

" **Of course Wolfgang can! Wolfgang is strong-man! No puny bird is match for guns!** " Wolfgang said, curling a massive bicep up against his head. Wendy clapped excitedly as he did, nearly falling backward in the process.

Willow rolled her eyes, which the other couldn't see due to her lack of pupils, "Alright 'Strong-man', y'can hop to it."

Willow gestured in various directions, "Out that way, y'should find more of those big things, beefalo we call em. That ways got a few berry bushes and stuff, but I dunno if they've grown in the cold. Don't go too far that way, or y'll hit the pig village. Also, definitely don't go that way, it's nothin' but bad and cold."

" **Is witch girl not coming?** "

"Nah," Willow said, standing up, turning her back to Wolfgang and pulling her shirt up, "One of those fuckin' monsters got me, so imma rest."

Wolfgang covered his mouth looking at the deep slash in her back, " **Is monsters?** "

"Yeah, huge birds, the size a' houses. They're fast too, I'd avoid em altogether," Willow said, rolling her shirt back down.

Wolfgang's already pale face went even whiter, " **They not come out of that way?** "

"The only time I've ever seen one was when it was protectin' it's kid, I don't think they come out this far," Willow gave Wolfgang a side-eye, "Y're not… scared, are you?"

" **Bah! Wolfgang, scared? Wolfgang is strong! Wolfgang not scared!** "

"Yeah, ' **witch girl** ', Uncle Wolfgang isn't scared of anything!" Wendy piped up, placing her hands on her hips.

"I think Willy said we're all brother and sisters or somethin'," Willow said, scratching her head.

" **Wendy is Wolfgang little sister?** " Wolfgang said, brightening up.

"Big brother Wolfgang," Wendy murmered, her eyes growing wider. She dashed around the fire and wrapped her tiny arms around Wolfgang's stomach.

" **Woah-ho! Is settled then! Little Wendy is family!** " Wolfgang chuckled, wrapping her up in a hug. He turned his head, " **Come! You part of family too Witch girl!** "

Willow stood up, but before she could even walk over, Wolfgang's giant arm reached over and pulled her in. There was a beat, the three of them basking in each other. The trio against the world.


	28. Day 23, part two

Wolfgang set out. Laden with a heavy fur blanket willow cut for him, that seemed to be more of a coat on his giant frame. Willow gave him her spear as well.

"I know ya like usin' yer fists but trust me on this one,"

Wolfgang hefted the spear, running a finger along the mottled wood, " **Is amazing craft! Where get?** "

"Willy made it."

" **Puny man made this? Is beautiful!** " He chuckled and nudged her, " **Is good for something after all.** "

Willow smiled, "He can't use em, but boy can he make em."

Wolfgang slid the spear into his leotard and looked around the camp, " **Is Witch girl and WendyWex going to be okay?** "

"We've got the fire, and Willy made another spear," Willow patted his enormous bicep, which was about as high as she could reach, "We'll be in more shit if ya don't come home with food."

Willow was not wrong. The husk of the Beefalo had been cut so deep that the white of bone was visible across the carcass. The legs and head were far too tough to eat, and it would only be so long before they hit an organ. By Wex's estimates, they had two days left, provided Wolfgang didn't eat it all in an hour.

Wolfgang gave a strange salute, shouldered his cloak, and walked. The icy wind was already nipping at him as he left the comfort of the camp, but the fire in his muscles kept it at bay. His cowl flailed as a gust of wind tore through the tree-line, and then he disappeared. Willow sat back down beside the fire, keeping an eye on the flames and her friend.

Wendy had fallen asleep in Wolfgang's arms. Willow didn't know much about medicine, but she hoped they were this tired because they were healing. If it were something worse, Willow didn't know if she'd be able to do anything. She could stitch up cuts and lay ice on bruises, but an infection was beyond her.

She looked into the fire and tried not to think about it.

* * *

Wolfgang pushed through the trees with ease. They were simple pine, made brittle by the biting cold. Nettles and fallen leaves crunched underfoot. It was now that Wolfgang had to confront the fact that he was no tracker. He was used to the farming life or opulence, and in either case, the beasts were easy to find.

He surveyed the darkened woods. It was still midday, but the sun hid itself behind a thick blanket of frozen clouds. Wolfgang could hear nothing over the howling wind. He kept moving, plodding vaguely in the direction Willow had sent him.

" **Beef-elo! Where are beef-elo! Beefy beefy beef!** " Wolfgang called, cupping his hands to magnify his already booming voice.

Snow fell from the tree above, smashing a pile of white powder atop Wolfgang's head. Wolfgang's muscles tightened, and then relaxed. He began to chuckle, shaking the snow from his head.

" **Silly wolfgang. What good is muscle if cannot find thing to use on?** "

Wolfgang tilted his weight forwards and began to run. First jogging, then sprinting, then galloping through the undergrowth. He tore plants asunder as he crashed through at a breakneck pace. Snow was flung high, smashing into the trees and covering the bushes. His tiny hazel eyes searching the darkness for something that wasn't snow or foliage.

After half an hour, he had to slow down. He leaned against a tree, his enormous chest fighting for the icey air. His cheeks were red with exertion, but at least he felt warm. His breath steamed out in front of him, almost obscuring his vision. Then he heard it, in the distance. A deep, throaty bellow. Wolfgang had found what he was looking for.

* * *

Wendy woke up.

"Is… Is Wolfgang gone?"

"Yeah," Willow replied, running a hand over the fire, "S'just you and me fer now."

"I don't like that."

"Y'don't seem ta like much."

"What is there to like? What point is there to liking anything?"

"Jesus girl, the world ain't that bad," Willow said, gesturing to the fire, "Y've got food in yer belly, there's a beautiful fire in front've ya, and y've got all yer organs in the right places. That's cause enough to be happy in my book."

"Then why aren't you?"

"What?"

"Happy, I mean."

"I am happy!" Willow said, irritation creeping into her voice.

"No you're not," Wendy replied, looking at the ground, "You're not doing anything happy people're supposed to do."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"Well..." Wendy said, squinting her eyes as she thought it over, "you're not… Well, you're not smiling. You're not laughing. You're not jumping."

"Jumpin'?"

"You know, jumping for joy."

There was a moment of silence as Wendy struggled to come up with some other reasons.

"Have ya ever been happy?" Willow asked, now watching Wendy's face.

"I suppose."

"Ya suppose? How can ya not know if y've ever been happy?"

"I don't know."

"Hang on, with Wolfgang, jus' before, y'were smiling. Weren'tcha happy then?"

"Was I?"

"Yeah!" Willow said, standing up, "How've ya already forgotten? It just happened! 'I suppose', of course y've been happy! Ya literally just were!"

"But it didn't feel like happiness."

"How the hell d'ya know that?"

"Because in the books mommy used to read, the characters would feel tingly and bubbly," Wendy shook her head, "I don't feel any of that."

Willow sat back down on the log with a Fwump, "Well… Have ya felt anythin' since ya got here? Asides the nothin'? So… I had a mate, he couldn't feel nothin'. Ended up stabbin' his gal in the stomach. Y'anythin' like that?"

"Did she deserve it?"

"I dunno. Probably not."

"Well, that's not nice."

"S'also not the point of that story."

Wendy glared at Willow, "I have felt stuff. I don't like you."

"What? I'm delightful!"

Wendy continued, her glare hardening, "I don't like the snow, I don't like the sun, I don't like this old man body, I don't like here."

"Yeah, gonna haveta agree on that last one. Last two actually, ol' Willy's body is no hotrod."

"Hot-what?"

"Hotrod? S'a really hot stick a metal. They're pretty."

"You're weird."

"HAH! Don't think y'can be throwin' stones in that department!"

Willow poked the fire a bit more, before hurling on another log. The sun had risen now, and if she squinted, she could figure out where it was behind the thick blanket of cloud. Judging by the position, she'd guess it to be about midday, maybe a bit earlier. She reckoned that Wolfgang would be back before dusk, if not earlier…

"I'm scared of life."

"S'a wha? Sorry?"

Wendy looked at the ground, silent.

"Y're scared of… Is that why ya keep goin' on about all that deppressin' crap?"

Wendy nodded.

"Jeez girl, life's nothin' ta be afraid of. S'like a rollercoaster. Y'can throw up the whole way through, but if you take the good with the bad, y'have a great time," Willow rubbed some ash from her hair, "Asides, I reckon of the two options, I'd rather life. Wouldn't you?"

Wendy was very quiet. So quiet for so long that Willow wondered if she'd dozed off. She knew better this time.

"I ain't gonna say life's the best thing ever, but what makes ya sure death's so good?"

"I don't know," Wendy's voice was so quiet, so strained, that Willow could hear the thudding of Wendy's heart.

"Ah geez, lemme…" Willow stood up and shuffled over onto Wendy's log. She wrapped one arm around her slender frame and pulled her tight, "Hey, s'okay. Yer safe here. Big sis Willow's gotcha."

Willow pulled tighter, wrapping Wendy against her chest. Her thin arms clutched Wendy as the front of her blouse stained with tears. Willow rocked back and forth, saying nothing as Wendy continued to cry against her.


End file.
